


Mess of Things

by NumptyPylon



Series: Post-Through the Moon Rayllum [2]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, THROUGH THE MOON SPOILERS, post-Through the Moon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26391169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NumptyPylon/pseuds/NumptyPylon
Summary: Rayllum drama, focused on character- and relationship development. Takes place a few months after Through The Moon. Summary inside, because of spoilers.CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF THROUGH THE MOON!
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: Post-Through the Moon Rayllum [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955287
Comments: 322
Kudos: 227





	1. Trouble Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> # CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF THROUGH THE MOON!
> 
> In a Xadian forest, a few months after the end of Through the Moon, Callum looks for Rayla, grappling with his conflicting feelings.  
> Post-TTM Rayllum reunion fic, heavily character-focused. Aiming for a therapeutic, hurt-comforty angst-flavor, for the post-TTM fandom!
> 
> If you haven't read TTM and don't care about spoilers and want to read this fic, here's a 3-line minimal-spoiler summary to get you up to speed to read this story: Trio + Soren travel to the Moon Nexus. Rayla has continual nightmares about Viren and is tormented by the lack of closure about what happened to her parents and Runaan. At the end, she lies to Callum that they will go find Viren together and leaves alone in the night.  
> But I highly recommend TTM, it's really great!
> 
> T rating is mainly for language, because people swear when they’re emotional 😉 There’s canon-level violence and (very) mildly suggestive content, nothing explicit at all.
> 
> Hope you enjoy:
> 
>   
>    
> 

Callum had followed common sense first, and then rumors, and then a Moon mage’s messenger arrow, charting the trajectory.

To her.

And now he was here, and _close,_ and she was staying away. Hiding.

He had found her campsite, the embers still warm.

It was hers. He knew her, knew how she stacked wood and chose a site and lay with her back against something solid when she slept alone, because she was afraid-

Callum shook his head, as if that would make those feelings go anywhere at all.

He hated how long he had stared at that indent in the grass where she had slept, how his heart had clenched in his chest imagining her there, alone, waking up from some nightmare… alone.

She had _chosen_ this, though, and that sparked a very different, hot and angry feeling.

He couldn’t just… shout at her and hug her at the same time? Right?

No. Her ears were sensitive and that wouldn’t be right.

And that was an entirely moot point, because she had left, and she was _still_ leaving, and he had no chance at all of finding a trained assassin in the kind of woods she grew up in, when she could jump through treetops and didn’t want to be found.

She was still alive though. Hadn’t managed to sacrifice herself.

Yet.

She was… around here somewhere, and close, too.

He ought to tread lightly, be careful, because she was not the only one. This was Moonshadow territory, and she was safe enough here, but _he_ very much was _not._

But… Callum was not _being_ all that careful, honestly. Rayla was close, hiding somewhere in the trees probably, and she would save him, if he was truly in trouble, she did that kind of thing.

Wasn’t like he didn’t realize her leaving had been another of those… _things_. Saving him.

Completely, utterly dumb, because she had to _know_ by now he would follow her.

And yet she had made such a _mess_ of things. Of _their_ thing.

Wait.

_Rayla would save him, if he was in trouble._

Well.

Guess… he was looking for trouble.


	2. Trouble Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum has found the trouble he was looking for ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First ACTUAL chapter, the first was a kind of teaser. Hope you enjoy!

Callum gasped, as the arrowhead punched straight through the fleshy part of his upper arm and into the tree behind him.

He was _stuck_ … and it… hurt.

His attempt at a onehanded Aspiro fizzled because it _hurt_ and the _shock_ and the realization that this was… somewhat more trouble than he had intended to find and…

And this was a _terrible_ idea. He didn’t _want_ Rayla to find him _now_ , didn’t _want_ her to fight four _very_ skilled adult warriors, not even including the guy he had Aspiro’ed into a tree earlier who might well rejoin this awful, awful party at any time.

His right arm that was _not_ pinned to the tree shakily fumbled for the arrow shaft, but that was… no… the world was darkening at the edges as he clumsily pulled at it, pain pushing away any focus he had had. It was… stuck, anyway. Firmly.

He didn’t have the angle or the strength or the _focus…_

And the Moonshadow hunters were _here_ now, drawing nearer, weapons drawn and levelled at him-

But the trees were rustling too, above him.

Oh.

NO!

Not… not _now._

“Rayla, LEAVE!” he shouted, panicked, up at the treetops.

She was good at that.

Leaving.

But she wasn’t doing it _now,_ he knew, she didn’t… leave when he wanted her to, she always… did the thing most likely to tear his heart from his chest, and now was no exception, because she dropped to the ground in front of him, empty hands spread out towards the blades that would cut her to pieces and his heart with it.

The hunters stopped in their tracks, out of pure confusion, he supposed.

Rayla turned to him, looked him over, face pinched and worried.

She was… she was actually there in front of him.

Too skinny, the edges of her jaw and cheeks harder.

_No-one to sneak her jellytarts and make sure she didn’t forget about lunch because she was working too hard._

Her hair shorter, cut choppily at her chin-level.

_No-one to braid it to keep it out of her eyes, or run their fingers through it to comfort her when she was in the throes of some nightmare._

Familiar lilac eyes, wide and scared and shocked and… full of self-loathing like he hadn’t seen since the Oasis in the Midnight Desert.

_No-one to love her and tell her she was lovable and important and precious._

She had never… been able to believe that, fully.

It was like a dream, like some hazy vision, as she reached out for him with a shaking hand, tears at the edges of her lashes. She didn’t touch him, and he was grateful, because it was a dream, and it would surely shatter if she did.

It _did_ shatter, as she turned back to face the hunters, and reality returned, harsh and painful and horrible.

His arm throbbing, his legs close to buckling under him, four armed and skilled hunters approaching.

And the girl he loved almost certainly about to hurt herself on his account.

_Again._

“He’s not dangerous!” she pleaded. “I know him. Please. Just walk away. I’ll handle it.”

“Child, that is a human,” the tall woman leading the group stepped forwards, wary. “Has he cast some illusion on you? We assure you, he is human, not whatever it is you see.”

“No! I know he’s human!” Rayla said said. “He’s… my friend-” _Was._ Was more than that, too. “And he’s not dangerous. I swear. Just… let us leave.”

The hunter turned to her companion, confused. “She’s under a spell, certainly. Poor child. Whatever he has done to her, it will break with his death. Kill him,” she said, nodding at the archer on her right.

“NO!” Rayla yelled, charging forward as the archer drew his bow.

She nimbly evaded the leader’s grasp for her, and in the same movement as her blades whipped out, the bowstring twanged as she severed it.

“Rayla, no!” Callum yelled, not even feeling the pain anymore in the face of the _dread._

She was… purposefully making herself a priority target, diverting attention from _him._ She wouldn’t kill. Wouldn’t hide in the trees, wouldn’t keep distance, wouldn’t use her greatest advantages.

She would very likely… _lose_ a straight-up fight, without them.

Rayla… was _fast_ though. Strong and skilled as ever.

Weaving under the bow shaft the archer swung at her to sweep his legs from under him.

Elbowing the leader square in the chest as she tried to grab her from behind, twirling and following up with a punch to the soft part of her throat.

Kicking the younger man coming forwards to pacify her, striking him solidly in the groin as she _was_ grabbed, but the hilt of her blade connecting with his temple dropped him to the ground, regardless.

But the largest of the hunters had her now.

She headbutted the man as he tried to pull her close to him, but he didn’t release his vice grip on her arm, and she couldn’t evade his next blow.

The man let go of her of his own accord, as he caught her squarely in the side of the head with a close-fisted punch, throwing her sideways, reeling from the blow, and the kick that followed to the side of her knee sent her sprawling to the ground.

She was not about to stay down though, he knew her, even though they would certainly have spared her, even though they were clearly trying _not_ to kill her.

“Girl, what are you doing?!” the lone man left standing yelled. “Why are you protecting a human?! Has he threatened you?! Threatened your family?! We will help you if you’re in trouble, just lay down your arms-”

She was _hurt,_ he could tell, breathing hard and pained as she pushed herself up.

“Please,” she almost sobbed. “Just… give me two seconds with him. I’ll get him free, he’s hurt. Then you can take us both, we’ll come willingly.” A bluff, and not a good one. She was a bad liar, for how often she did it.

The man was not budging. “Girl, you’re beat. I know joints, and you’re not beating me as you are now.”

“I don’t want to beat you,” Rayla said, beseeching. “I want to leave.” She always _left._

They stood there, unmoving. The hunter was hesitant to strike, clearly. He could end it, but he didn’t.

Then moonlight lit up her white hair, as the clouds parted.

For long moments, she stood there in the silver light, arms spread like a sacrifice, like she seemed so very determined to be.

But then her palm shot out, lightning fast, to hit the hunter’s chin, not nearly enough to stop him in itself but it was more than physical force that hit him.

The hunter’s eyes went wide and staring, seeing nothing. He tripped over his fallen companion as he stepped backwards, fumbling blindly.

No longer a threat.

Rayla wavered on her feet, almost dropping from the outpouring of energy.

A brute force illusion.

It was not a spell, she was no good at those.

It was a desperate, _stupid_ last stand, raw energy, and a _lot_ of it.

She _was_ good at _those._

Rayla didn’t waste time, that blindness was _very_ temporary, as was the injuries that had dropped the remainder of the hunting party. She staggered towards him, wiping blood out of one eye, where her delicate white eyebrow had split open.

She reached towards the arrow pinning him to the tree, grinning tightly at him. Then she swiftly severed the arrow shaft where it was stuck in the tree, and aligning the headless shaft carefully, pulled it out, without the slightest pretense of counting to three or anything, making the world go black with pain for a moment.

He came back to himself sagged against her shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, _worried,_ although she was panting too, barely staying upright. A brute force illusion was _draining_ , and overall a terrible idea, like most of her ideas lately. “We need to _leave._ Can you do that?”

He could, although the wings tore at the place the arrow had hit when he transformed. You did what you had to, and they had to get _away._

Every wingbeat was agony.

Rayla pressed against him a very different agony.

She was clearly affected by that not-spell she did, possibly by that blow to the head too, her arms around him trembling, at one point giving out completely and she would have fallen if not for his legs wrapping around her waist as her eyes rolled back in her head and she slid down his chest. Even those two seconds of unconsciousness was… a problem… in the air.

And he was affected by the arrow wound under the feathers somewhere, by her, and his overwhelming feelings and this complete disaster.

This was… way more trouble than he had bargained for.

They set down some way away, a hilltop with a fast-flowing stream and a cave he could see from the air, but which would be hard to find for anyone else.

It would do. It would _have_ to do.

They both crumbled to the ground, as his wings fell away.

Rayla got up almost immediately though, the familiar determination-skirting-the-lines-of-sanity pushing her upright when she shouldn’t be, pressing a wad of her cloak against his arm. “I think the wings tore it,” she said, frowning as she peered at it, carefully wiping at the blood to see. “No flying until it’s healed, or it won’t heal at all. She made him hold the cloth while she rummaged through her bag, retrieving actual bandages, and a water flask.

“I’ll go see if I can find something for that, okay? Food and water, at the very least. Just… keep pressure?”

She had limped, and quite badly. _His_ legs were fine, _he_ was unaffected by the very recent, single most draining and ill-advised use of a Moon Arcanum in existence.

“Rayla, maybe _I_ should-”

“Shut up,” she said, not stopping to argue, because she didn’t do that, she just _left._ “You’re bleeding and I’m not.”

That wasn’t quite true, the blood from her split eyebrow smeared across her temple and had run down her cheek. “You’re bleeding too-”

“A fist is not the same as an arrow.”

“And a boot? From someone twice your size who _knows about joints?!”_

“I’m fine.”

“Oh?!” he sneered. “I’ll just start digging your grave then, because might as well prepare for that eventuality. You saying you’re fine, you might as well be dying for all the meaning that has, coming from you. You can stick that with ‘I trust you’ or ‘the full truth’, add it to the pile of meaningless things you say-”

He might just be snappier than usual because it fucking hurt, physically _and_ seeing her now. He had looked for her for so long, and imagined melting into her arms, but now… he just _hurt._

She was taking it though. Not saying anything back, not scolding him for getting into trouble, or for getting hurt, or for getting _her_ hurt.

She wasn’t… _arguing_ either though.

She just _left_ , like she did.

Her leg nearly buckled, just before she disappeared in the bushes, and that sharp intake of breath-

He knew her, and if she had been anyone else, she would probably have been screaming. And he hated seeing her hurt herself, as much as he ever had.

But the world swam when he pushed up, nausea and shock and exhaustion and pain he had never been as good as her at ignoring.

He sank back against the cave wall.

She would at least… be back, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I'm not great at action scenes, so I hope you'll give me a chance to get to that delicious interpersonal drama ;)
> 
> Will try to have the next chapter up in a couple of days' time, but I don't have a strict schedule for this fic.


	3. Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum is feeling some firsthand and secondhand pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So nooow, the actual story can begin! 
> 
> POVs will alternate from here on out. Also projection is now 7 chapters and now 5. Oops.

Rayla did come back, in not too long, or rather, he didn’t think so, it was honestly hard to judge, because with the adrenaline leaving and the intensity of emotion settling, it was hard to concentrate on anything but pain.

 _She_ had always been an extremely potent walking distraction though, or limping, as it were, right now, and her return _did_ let him concentrate on something else.

She had made noise on purpose as she neared, hooting like a Xadian owl, a signal from way back when they had travelled together the first time, and in the stupid pain haze, a relieved smile had spread on Callum’s face before he could stop himself, because he had always been so happy to hear that sound. To know she was okay and returning to him and Ezran. And he _hadn’t_ known for _months_ if she was okay and it had been _awful_ and… _returning?_ Well, he wouldn’t be here if he had bet on _that._

But she was both.

Well, ‘okay’ was clearly a stretch, her face pinched and pale with pain as she neared, he definitely noticed that before she schooled it into a more neutral position as she entered the cave.

A lie without words was still a lie.

But she had at least been successful, it seemed _._ The big fleshy leaves with disinfecting, healing-promoting goop inside that he remembered from after Sol Regem. Smaller leaves he didn’t know. Fruit. Water.

She handed him the smaller leaves, as she sat down next to him, not crouching or cross-legged as she usually would but flat on her butt, her leg stretched out. Therein was the _truth_ without words, and he could see it, but he felt quite strongly that he shouldn’t have to mount an observational study to _get_ that truth out of her.

“For pain,” she explained. “Chew, but don’t swallow. They have side effects, but you still should.”

He did, because it hurt a _lot_ and whatever the side effects were, it couldn’t be worse than the rest of this mess of a situation. They were bitter and leafy. Not very nice, but definitely better than the sharp and throbbing ache.

They worked… pretty fast. And didn’t _just_ relieve pain but also… relieved him of… what? Sense?

Yeah, that was probably those side effects at play.

The world was fuzzier and nicer.

Hazy.

A bit. Not a lot.

Yet.

“You too,” he said, through the slight, floaty haze, as she inspected the arrow wound, cleaning it diligently, which _did_ still hurt, but definitely a lot less than it would have without the haze. Then she used that… goop he had used on her when Sol Regem dumped rocks on her stupid, pretty, self-sacrifice face.

He probably wouldn’t die? Because he had neither hugged her nor shouted at her yet, and that just wouldn’t do.

No, it wasn’t too bad, he thought? Now Rayla had stopped actively messing with his arm, it didn’t hurt much at all. He certainly wasn’t dying, he thought Rayla would be more upset if he was-

Oh. She _did_ look kind of… definitely really upset.

But no. Still no. He was pretty sure he wasn’t dying, and he _had_ found her so… success? And he was angry at her, but he definitely didn’t want her to hurt like she was now, he would never want that.

“You too,” he repeated, insistent, as she tied the bandages, neatly tucking in the ends.

“No,” she said gently, brushing his sweaty hair back, as she carefully eased him to lie down. She couldn’t just… _do_ that, when he was still this mad at her. He couldn’t feel it properly through the floaty feeling, you couldn’t plant your feet when you were floating… but he knew he was. “One of us needs to keep a clear head.”

Right. The world was fuzzy. And he wasn’t angry anymore. And it hurt a lot less. So that was good. He hoped.

 _Rayla_ still hurt though. She was breathing hard when she removed her boots.

And then she took her _pants_ off. He knew she _had_ to do that, to look at her knee, they were tight and didn’t roll up that far, but still.

She couldn’t just take her pants off in front of him, that was not fair at all.

She did… have to, though. They were reeeeally tight.

He smiled widely, at he thought of her tight pants, and the spectacular butt _under_ the pants and…

And he was mad at her and this really didn’t really fit the general vibe of this situation. Right.

He forgot all about her butt when he looked back at her, because she was _hurting,_ hurting so badly she was biting her lip and her hands were shaking, and that hurt _him_ in a way those leaves couldn’t shield him from.

And maybe he should have thought she deserved it, or… been indifferent but… but he was here in the first place because he was very much _different_.

Wait. Different wasn’t the opposite of indifferent, was it? No.

It fit, so who cared? He was different.

And she was hurting, and she wasn’t chewing those leaves, because _he_ had.

She was using the goop at least, wincing as she touched the swollen skin at her temple. She couldn’t see her own face, so did a kinda really horrible job on that. He wanted to reach out and fix it but… they were… not there. Definitely. And her eye was swelling nearly shut, too, she really should… do better.

He pulled his scarf off, without ceremony. He could do a non-verbal Aspiro Frigis now, especially when he just needed a really tiny one, like now, and did.

It was pretty easy, when it didn’t hurt and he wasn’t scared out of his mind anymore.

Her fingers grazed his and left a tingly feeling, ringing through the haze, when she took the cold, damp scarf from him.

She displaced the goop even more when she pressed the cloth against the swelling, but he couldn’t touch her to fix it, they weren’t there yet.

He couldn’t help her.

She did a _slightly_ better but still sloppy job on her knee, onehanded and rushed and without care.

The anger was muffled, he couldn’t feel it properly, but it was definitely… _there._

She should do _better._

He Aspiro’ed her abandoned pants too though, for lack of anything more suitable to use, and placed them over her knee, because it seemed less intimate than her face, and he could do that without actually touching her.

And then… she was guiding him back to lie down and he was sinking even further down, still.

The world was so… fuzzy. It was hard to be mad, the heat and intensity of it lost in the haze along with the pain. It did fuck-all to lessen the pain from every muffled little sound she made resonating in _him_ or from the fact that he couldn’t reach out and touch her like his desperate heart wanted, at odds with his angry head.

Callum closed his eyes, and the world faded away with nothing left to ground him there.

* * *

When the world came back to him, it was less fuzzy and more painful.

It bled into focus, sandy ground, rocky walls, moonlight on Rayla’s pale face, his scarf still flopped across the right side of it.

Moonlight. So it was still night and he hadn’t slept that long. He definitely didn’t feel done sleeping, the heavy fatigue like a physical downwards pull. But he was awake anyway, which probably had something to do with the effect of those leaves wearing off.

He sat up, kind of groggy, but the fog was clearing away. Faintly dizzy, which _didn’t_ go all the way away, but… mostly, at least, as he sat there, getting his bearings.

His arm hurt less than it had, but still… quite a lot and it was distracting. There were more of the leaves in his hand though, and he smiled at her kindness, before he remembered how angry and hurt he was.

It was confusing, to still love her so much, too.

He put the leaves down. He wanted a clear head, at least for a little while.

Rayla was fast asleep, completely out of it, but even now her brow furrowed, even in sleep she was not at _rest_.

That not-spell would have taken a _lot_ of energy, she might sleep for a while more and he should probably let her.

He gingerly lifted the scarf off her face, wincing at the sight of purpling, swollen bruises spreading across her temple, cheek and eye. Dried blood, just left there, smeared streaks across her skin and matting her eyebrow and bits of her hair.

She hadn’t taken care of herself properly at all, just him. And she needed to, that was the _point._

Yeah, he really didn’t give a shit if they were ‘there yet’.

He got more goop, spreading it carefully this time, not the haphazard mess she had made. Made the scarf cold again, and replaced it, half-covering her face.

Her arm was purple too, marks from a large four-fingered hand, and he could see the swelling even before he removed the folded pants from her knee. Definitely not good.

And he was… taking care of her, like an old habit, he realized. Picking up the slack because _her_ efforts at taking care of herself rarely made it past half-assed.

She was shifting though, waking too. Moaning faintly as she did, before she made it to awake and asserted the familiar wordless lie that she was fine.

“Callum?” she said, looking up at him, still muzzy with fatigue, but pushing past it and herself up to sitting, fixing him with firm stare. “Lie back down, you’re hurt-”

“When I’ve done what I can for you, like you did for me, sure.”

“What? No, you’re _hurt_ , Callum-”

“So are you!” He gestured, one-armed, at her badly swollen and bruised knee. “What do you call that? I know _I_ call that you not walking, let alone fighting, for a while. I can cast spells with one arm. You _can’t_ fight with one leg.”

She looked far too stricken to hear an obvious observation. “I know,” she said, like an admission of guilt. “I can’t protect you.” She looked at him, her eyes fixed on his left arm. “I already failed-”

She was very close to tears, he could tell, and he wasn’t very confident in his ability to stay angry if she started crying, this _not-crying_ thing she was doing right now was plenty bad, with the biting down on her trembling bottom lip and the tense shoulders and the ridiculously expressive and enormous fucking _eyes_ , their effect apparently no less potent with one halfway swollen shut.

She turned away, and it was some degree of relief, until her shoulders shook and it wasn’t helping at _all_.

She got up, with a pained grunt and wavering on her feet as she did, but she limped away anyway, determined to leave, determined to hurt herself, and him by extension. Her knee buckled under her as she stepped out of the cave and she stumbled, inhaling in a ragged gasp. If she hadn't had the incredible strength and balance she did, she would certainly have fallen. 

Callum caught up very easily.

He was getting bigger and stronger, as tall as her and flying was a serious workout, and Rayla was even skinnier than she had been the last time he had seen her… and he was _angry._ And she was so stunned she didn’t even fight back when he slung her over his shoulder with his good arm and walked back to the cave with her.

“STAY!” he ordered angrily, clutching his arm, throbbing anew from that stunt. “Don’t you dare leave, don't you dare hurt yourself anymore on my account, you’ve done plenty and it hurts _me!”_

“You _literally_ just hurt yourself on mine!” she said incredulously, shaking off the stunned compliance that he very well knew would be temporary.

“Because you _leave!_ You jump off cliffs and lie and _leave!_ And I can’t stand it!”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I know. That’s why I left. Because you follow me when I jump off those cliffs and I can’t… not _you-”_

“And your answer to that is not to _stop jumping off cliffs,_ but to _leave?!_ AGAIN?!”

She tried to speak, but just choked on her words, her face screwing up in that gods-fucking-awful definitely-not-crying way she did. And she was making to get up again, and that made him so angry it was like a different kind of haze.

“STOP _LEAVING!”_ he shouted, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Callum, please! It’s not fair to you! I’m _going to cry,_ don’t you get that?! And you’re angry at me, and you have every right to be, and I _can’t_ cry in front of you because you’re such a fucking bleeding heart you would fold like a wet rag, and that’s not _fair!”_

But she _was_ crying now, and so was he, and it _wasn’t_ fair at all, but he pulled her to him and cried into her shoulder.

“You left me,” he sobbed, clutching at her.

“I know.”

“I- I love you.”

“I know that too,” she said gently, stroking across the back of his neck.

They stayed like that for a while.

That was something, at least. That she stayed.

“We should… talk,” he said hoarsely, drawing back. “Without crying or shouting.” That wasn’t okay either, it wasn’t going to make things any _more_ okay, you shouldn’t shout at the people you loved, even if they deserved it.

And Rayla had taken so very many things she _didn’t_ deserve. And it didn’t feel nearly as good as he had expected to shout at her while sat there and deserved it and took it.

He reached out to wipe the tears from her cheeks as well as he could one-handed, mindful of the bruises. She cupped his face in both hands as she returned the favor, the touch somehow both familiar and foreign.

They definitely both still… loved each other. That was not the issue.

* * *

“We have to stay here for a while,” she said, looking down in her lap. “You’re right, we’re _both_ injured and this is as good a place as any to lay low. So. Really. What can I do? While we’re here. To… make it… easier for you.”

“You can _stay_ ,” he said immediately. “You can stop hurting yourself, and that means no walking until I find a crutch or something. You can take care of yourself better - you didn’t even clean up yesterday and you didn’t take any painkillers even though you should have and you walked around on your clearly-messed-up knee and you can’t do stuff like that. You can tell me the truth… the _full_ truth. You can cry in front of me if you’re going to cry, your feelings are part of the full truth. You can let me help you like you help me. You can… not let me shout at you. You can… forgive me, if I do anyway. Because I might. I’m really angry at you.”

She actually smiled slightly, to his surprise not refuting any of it. “That’s it?” she asked.

“For starters,” he said tightly. He might well think of more things.

“Okay,” she said, looking directly at him now. “I promise.”

He winced, because her last promise to him, she had broken.

But she did let him help her clean up the blood and replace the cool poultice on her knee.

And she checked his bandage and declared him healing well enough, the bleeding stopped. Checked that he could move and feel all his fingers. He could, just with slight pulling pain when he did. It hurt kind of… in general, definitely, but that was probably normal when you had been shot, not that he would know. He assumed it was.

She looked very much not-pleased though, even though he was sure it was all as good as it could be, half a day post-impaling.

“The full truth, Rayla,” he reminded her, as she tied the bandage.

“I’m… upset.” Yeah, no shit. But he let her find her words. “That… you could have been killed.”

“So what? Do you even realize how many times I’ve watched _you_ get nearly killed?”

“That’s not the same-“

“Yes it is!” Callum exclaimed, heated again. He breathed deeply. He was still so angry with her, it just kept coming out. “Sorry. No shouting. I do mean that.”

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t. Nothing was okay at all, between them.

But he was tired, and it hurt. And _she_ was no doubt as tired and achy as he was, and he thought he should do his bit to stop talking until after they had rested, because it kept going wrong.

So they ate in silence, and drank, leaving a bit of water, since Rayla had said it was a little way away to get more.

“Now?” Callum said firmly, because he was very thoroughly sick of her choosing to suffer for no reason, they had _specifically_ agreed that she was not to do that after the battle of the Stormspire, and it had kind of been… a work in progress, actually living up to it. “You chew those leaves. And so do I. And we both lie down and rest.”

She did _not_ look happy about that. But if they were found by pretty much _anyone_ with hostile intent, they were toast anyway, drugged and loopy or not. And Rayla definitely knew it, she was whip smart for someone so monumentally dumb.

They both chewed those leaves, simultaneously, like a weird pact.

“And now? Uh…” he had to ask this _before_ that hazy bit kicked in because it wouldn’t be right, after. “Come here? Please? But… only if you want to.”

She nodded though, immediate and relieved.

She had to lie on her back so they could elevate her knee, so he positioned himself against her, lying on his side, his head on her shoulder and his injured arm carefully positioned to rest across her chest.

She put her face against his hair.

He carefully intertwined her fingers with hers.

It was like some dream. The pain had left. Just fuzzy warmth remaining.

Her lips he had missed oh… so much… so close.

Her soft hair against his forehead, tickling slightly.

Her small, warm hand in his.

Her soft cheek against his lips, and oh… that was not a good idea, was it?

Her soft lips on his now, because they had both apparently decided that that was a _fantastic_ idea.

It was brief and chaste because they did both have _some_ idea about the wrong in kissing people who weren’t in their right mind. Even if they were both exactly the same level of loopy, that was still a thing, he thought.

“I love you,” she muttered, into his hair when she probably thought he was already sleeping.

He knew.

That had _never_ been the issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This story WILL get slightly less angsty, but for now these kids have some feelings.


	4. Real Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla wakes up to a real mess of feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented and kudos'ed on the previous chapters! The comic isn't even out yet, so I wasn't really sure there was much of a readership for this story, so it really means a lot <3

His too-trusting head against her shoulder.

His too-gentle hand loosely curled around hers.

His too-kind heart, beating against the side of her ribcage.

She didn’t… deserve any of it. And they were _stuck_ now, as her knee took care to remind her very pointedly of, when she shifted, as well as that bloodstained bandage around his arm that made her feel sick to her stomach.

He was… okay. Or would be. Just… very almost _not._

Because of her.

_Again._

Tears bubbled up inside her, and she had cried plenty, and she shouldn’t have, in the first place. It was… toying with him, taking advantage of the soft spots he had willingly and trustingly shown her. It might be the truth, but it was wrong. It was definitely unfair to cry in front of him when he was rightfully mad at her.

He had said it wasn’t, but that was the _problem…_ that he wasn’t protecting himself, when it came to her.

She had to do it.

There was no… _choice._ He seemed to think there was, that she could bear it if he died for her or Viren took him like he had taken everyone else-

She pulled his scarf off her face, it had long since stopped being cold, anyway. She kept it in her hand though, feeling the soft familiar knit between her fingers.

His soft hair against her neck and cheek was familiar too.

She swallowed.

It was wrong to take so comfort from him, pressed against her, when she had made her choice.

And it was wrong to wake him, too, he was tired and injured. She kept hurting him. She had tried to keep him safe and he was _not_ now.

Her head ached dully, more now without the cooling balm that he had given her. Without his… _him._ A bit of the fuzziness from those leaves was still there, stripping away the defenses.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, into his hair. “I should never have dragged you into this, I should never have-” she stopped.

 _Did_ she regret kissing him, that night in the Midnight Desert? Well. No. He deserved better than her, but he loved her, he had never given her cause to doubt that. And he still did, although gods knew _why._

She would rather have him alive and hating her than dead, and she had fully expected those to be the choices and that had made it no choice at all.

But he was alive and _loving_ her, still, and what was she supposed to do with _that?_

He had come here for her, because… what?

Did he want her to come back with her? She couldn’t, she was not done yet. Viren was still out here, and making her nightmares a very real-feeling future. She had to finish what she started. She had _seen-_ saw it every night… what would happen if she didn’t.

Did he want to _join_ her, still? That was completely horrifying to her. She saw him in that ice prison pretty much every night, and it felt so _real._ It felt like… destiny. Unless she stopped it. And she couldn’t explain that to him, he explicitly _didn’t_ believe in things like destiny. It wasn’t like she did either, not _really,_ not anything but _this_ scenario. It just… it was so persistent and so _real,_ cementing itself with every iteration.

Her head spun too much to think. Her heart hurt too much to pull away from him.

And fatigue and pain and fuzzy haze was pulling her down. She didn’t want to, because she _knew_ what was down there, under the edge of consciousness, waiting for her.

It would take her if she let it.

It would take _him._

But the pull was too strong and she slipped under, into the familiar waiting maw.

* * *

She woke, breathing hard, dizzy and sweaty, gasping for air, grasping for a handhold that wasn’t _that-_

Her fingers clenched in something soft.

His hair? He was _here_ and he _couldn’t_ be-

Callum was not behind that icy prison, he was snuggled against her neck, and it was so very wrong, his warm weight against her not comforting but terrifying, because he was _here_ now, where he wasn’t supposed to be and it was _happening-_

“Hey?”

His muzzy voice, soft and comforting.

“You’re okay.”

No.

“It’ll be okay.”

 _No_. Not even… not even a little bit.

He was _here_ and it was _happening_ -

She messed up everything good. He had said it himself, that what she said was meaningless, and he was right. And she was crying now, and he had said she wasn’t supposed to hide it, even though it felt so very wrong to take comfort from him, when he had loved her and trusted her and she had thrown it in his face like Claudia had.

And he wasn’t supposed to be here at all.

She couldn’t… breathe… not properly, not when he was here making it real-

Rayla breathed ragged breaths into his chest while he stroked her hair like no-one had for months, and stroked her scalp at the base of her horns, soothing and intimate and imploring her muscles and thoughts to unwind from the tight coil that kept her contained, but she couldn’t… _let go._

Except that she already had.

It was barely a tiny half-whimper, the first, but it was out of her control with the second, months of accumulated waking up alone and _not_ crying forcing themselves out at once.

It was not even just _crying_ anymore, it was _wailing,_ miserable loud sobs, unrestrained, tearing at her throat, her achy head, tearing at her knee even because her whole body shook so violently.

“Rayla, it’s okay,” he said gently, like he had in the Oasis.

She gasped for air, not getting enough.

She followed the rhythm of _his_ breath, his rising and falling chest against her cheek.

He was good at breathing, being a sky mage. He was good at a lot of things. More than he knew.

He drew away slightly, when she calmed, but kept his arms around her.

His face was pale and strained, but even so, he smiled at her a tiny bit when she opened her eyes.

He had… _both_ arms around her. And she had been… shaking.

“Dummy,” she said hoarsely, carefully supporting his injured arm as she moved it back to rest against his chest. “If I’m not allowed to hurt myself on your account, that _does_ go for you too. Only fair.”

His good arm stayed around her though, even as they both sat up. “I didn’t really notice it hurt. I mean, I did, _after_ ,” he said quietly. “Rayla? Was that… a nightmare? You were never like _that._ It was… bad. It was bad just for _me_ and I wasn’t inside your head where the-”

The full truth. She had promised. Even if she hadn’t, her defenses were gone, he did that kind of thing to her. “It was… a _lot_ of nightmares. I’m just… it won’t leave me alone, and it feels like… it _means_ something. That it’s a punishment because I failed or… that it’s going to _happen_. It keeps happening, the same one, everyone Viren took from me a-and more. Y-you-”

“ _Me?”_ he asked, maybe, finally… _getting it._ She hadn’t _wanted_ him to get it, because it was a horrible thing _to_ get, really. “You dream about… _me._ And it feels real and that’s why… you left.”

“What’s the alternative, Callum? That it means _nothing?_ That I just… suffer for no reason? And can’t _do_ anything about it?”

“I didn’t say… without _reason. Really_ bad things happened to you-”

“ _Happened_. Past tense. It was supposed to be _over._ And it _will_ be over, once I find him and… _make_ it over.”

“My mom once told me… head, hand, heart.” He spoke slowly, pensively. Thinking. “And your stubborn head can insist it’s over but you’re more than just a head, so that’s not enough? Because you can’t control all of yourself, so you can’t… make it go away just because you want it really hard.” That was not nice to hear. What was she _supposed_ to do, if she couldn’t control it? “Maybe _that’s_ the reason. Maybe it’s reminding you that you’re more than the things under your control, and that the mess you lived through is still inside you, despite what your head says.”

It did… made sense. That the bad things stuck to her in more than just her head.

Her body remembered, she knew _that._ She had been tense and jumpy, and she didn’t use to.

He noticed her frown. “I don’t know how to make it go away either, Rayla,” he said, sadly. “Or how to help you. Well, that’s obvious. I _didn’t_ help you, because you didn’t give me a chance to-” Anger now, again, rising and heating. “-because I didn’t _know_ the extent of it because you didn’t _tell_ me-” He cut off before actual shouting though, this time.

“I’m sorry. About not telling you. I didn’t want you to… I didn’t want those things to touch _you_.”

“You told me _now,_ though,” he said, smiling a bit, even though what she had told him was horrible.

Those things _had_ touched him, just in a more roundabout kinda way, she hadn’t really prevented that at all, just… postponed it. Pushed it in front of her until it had touched him and hurt him.

But he was still looking at her all… soft, reaching out to cover both her hands, clenched in her lap, with his right.

“Thank you,” he said, with _feeling._ “For telling me.”

She stared at their three hands together.

Then the one missing, still cradled against his chest.

Clenched in a fist.

“How are you… holding up?” she asked.

He smirked, tight and slightly pained, but his green eyes were sparkling with some grim humor. She _had_ rubbed off on him there, a bit. “Yeah, it’s super weird, but it feels like I was impaled yesterday, would you believe it?”

“Nooo?! Really?” she forced a grin that was extremely half-hearted because he really _had_ been impaled yesterday, and that really wasn’t funny at all, and he was _definitely_ still in a good deal of pain, and the full truth should _really_ go for him too. “The full truth?” she asked, looking down. She needed to know. He had been there looking for _her._ If she hadn’t been too weak to lie properly, he might have been safe in his castle with Ezran.

“I don’t feel great, honestly,” he admitted. “My arm hurts and I’m still kind of… shaky. But relative to being impaled, I’m better than I thought I’d be? I guess I _was_ only _mildly_ impaled.” He snickered slightly, completely out of place. “That’s what _you_ would have called it, if it had been you.”

She… might have. It was _different_ though, when it was him.

“I don’t really have… a lot of experience with being shot,” he said. “So I don’t know, really.”

“Yeah, me neither,” she admitted.

She did have experience with Moonshadow arrowheads, and that was something, at least.

Runaan had told her when she was 11, over dinner how to deal if she ever got shot, and she had listened very intently because it had been _interesting._

Ethari had called them both barbarians and gone for a walk, and Callum might not appreciate the gory details either. Or maybe he would? He _was_ very curious about basically everything.

“I’m going to be okay, right?” Callum asked, slightly anxious. “No… slow-acting poison or severed arteries or any of that?”

She scoffed. “ _Hunting_ arrow. No _spurting_ of any kind _._ So a definite no to both of those.” The Callum imagination at work. Amazing how his brain did that, all on its own. Gory details it was then. Whatever he was _imagining_ was definitely worse than reality. “You’ll be okay, probably. You were lucky, relatively speaking. Moonshadow elves don’t poison arrows meant for hunting _,_ because that would affect the meat. And you were shot with a narrow-ish arrowhead, meant to penetrate Moonoose hide, nothing like the stuff that would have _really_ messed up a wee human arm, like the triangular broadheads we use for-”

“Okay!” Callum’s eyes had widened, and he was clutching his injured arm protectively. “I get it!”

“I should have a look,” she said, smiling slightly, reassuring. “Confirm you’re not dying, right?”

She confirmed that he… wasn’t dying.

And she thought his arm would be fine except he _would_ get a not-insignificant scar. Well. Two. In and out. And the flying had definitely not helped, in that regard. He was a prince with barely _any_ scars… _no_ scars that weren’t from his own clumsiness, except _now_ he was gonna get a definitely permanent one because of _her-_

Her fingers lingered on the warm skin of his arm when she retied the bandage, and then dropped back to her lap, her gaze with it.

“I chose to be there,” he said firmly, like he understood what she was thinking. “You got hurt on my account and not the other way around. I _know_ you take responsibility that isn’t yours, in fact I was _betting_ on that.” He breathed deeply. “The full truth. It goes for me, too. I kind of… _majorly_ overshot and got more trouble than I bargained for and you got hurt because of it, and I’m really sorry about that, but…” He straightened up and looked right at her, clearly _not_ sorry about _this._ “I got in trouble on purpose-”

“What?!” she yelled, whipping her head up to stare straight at the absolutely _way-_ beyond just _dumb_ idea face. “Callum! What were you thinking, you do realize I wasn’t kidding about those broadheads?! You’re not dying but YOU BLOODY WELL COULD HAVE BEEN YOU MONUMENTAL MORON!”

“YOU LEFT! ALONE!” He breathed heavily, abruptly jerking upright, which definitely hurt, but he wasn’t backing down. “You left, Rayla! Alone,” he repeated. “Alone. To find a man who slew an Arch Dragon and laid waste to Lux Aurea!” He reached for her, but his hand clenched into a fist and drew back. “Rayla. I _cannot_ watch that. I can’t watch you sacrifice yourself on some altar of your own making! I know it’s not pride, I _do_ realize that! But I CAN’T WATCH IT!”

“THAT’S WHY I LEFT!” she shouted. She _knew_ he couldn’t, he was not supposed to _be_ here-

“A-and you think that’s _b-better_ ,” he gasped out, angrily wiping at his eyes. “It’s _not_ … at _all_ … knowing you were out there, jumping of cliffs I couldn’t see… a-and if I was _lucky_ I would get word of how you d-died, more likely you would d-disappear and I’d just never see you agai-”

Rayla swallowed a snarky comment along the lines of ‘oh wow, wonder what _that’s_ like’, because he was fully sobbing now, his composure in shreds and also… yeah, he _had_ realized what he had just said because he cut himself off, staring at her, tears still streaming down his face.

And reached out for _her._ To comfort _her._

Dummy.

 _She_ was not the one crying right now.

She put her arms around his neck, as he buried his face in her shoulder and let out _his_ months of waking up alone and not crying.

“That’s… that’s what happened to _you_ ,” he gulped miserably. “Except, it… _actually_ happened. Not just as a fear in your head.”

“Yeah,” she said simply.

“It’s really horrible. Even just in your head.”

“Yeah.”

He paused for a while, but didn’t draw away. “Then _how_ could you do _anything_ like that to me?”

“I couldn’t-” She couldn’t bear the thought of him dying for her.

“Does it _really_ not get through your skull that I love you as much as you love me? That I can’t stand the thought of you dying either? You think _your_ feelings are so special?” He was _angry_ again, but it petered out in wet hiccups against her shoulder.

When he spoke again, minutes later, the anger had gone entirely.

“Rayla?” He sounded soft and pleading and she was very unsure she had any ability to said no to whatever he would ask her. “You want to… hug for a really long time, and not speak so we can’t shout and hurt each other?”

“Yes,” she said, and immediately too, her traitorous heart folding like a wet rag with tears from him.

* * *

Long hugs were tricky, because her knee was a massive pain in the… knee if she wrenched it just slightly, and she would have been okay with a bit of pain in the service of a long hug, but she had promised him she wouldn’t.

In the end, he sat leaning against the wall of the cave, and she sat between his legs leaning against his chest. He could put both arms around her like this, resting his injured arm in her lap, and she could hold both his hands and stretch out her leg.

It worked out. As comfy as could be, everything considered.

The sat like that for a while, not talking and therefore not hurting each other more.

She was almost dozing off, but… _both_ his arms around her reminded her that she something else to say before she did.

“Callum. What you did before… that was like… tiny version of jumping off a cliff after me, holding me, even when I was jolting your arm? That’s… part of what makes me so-” She swallowed. The full truth. They had agreed. “-so scared. For you. That you don’t… hold back. At all. And not just with that but with everything. Your _feelings_. I’m Moonshadow, Callum, that’s _weird,_ to me. _Super_ weird.”

He smiled, she could feel his cheek shifting against hers and hear it in his voice. “The last… super weird thing I did? That was putting my arms around you back when we were chasing Nyx and that was actually… pretty nice. Being pressed up against _your_ butt is definitely better than flailing around on a Shadowpaw butt-” He snickered, but then seemed to catch himself, his face heating slightly where it pressed against her. “Sorry. That’s… yeah. Not okay. To make comments like that when we aren’t-”

They weren’t together. Or rather, that was… iffy. To the Moonshadow, they had never _been_ together, their relationship unacknowledged, non-existent. To them, he had been her moonberry surprise and she had been his moonberry crumble, because he was a heathen, who actually preferred the far inferior crumble. Something you liked. Not someone you were bound to. So in that sense, they still were… that.

She hadn’t… they hadn’t actually… broken up. She assumed he had, in her absence, in his head. You couldn’t just lie to people and leave them and not-

Yeah, she kinda assumed they were broken up, and so did he, apparently. That was a fresh kinda pain, that she hadn’t considered.

“It makes me feel sad. That we’re not… that you don’t- You can make those jokes, you know.”

“Rayla, I don’t _want_ to make those jokes,” he said, wincing as he said it.

“I get it,” she said. He still loved her, he had said, and she trusted him, but that was different to actually… wanting to be with someone.

She was… a whole lot of mess. More than anyone could want.

“I really don’t think you do,” he said, stroking across her palms. “It’s not that I don’t… want to be with you. I… _definitely_ do.” He never held back. Not even the very thorough stomping she’d given his heart and his feelings had made him close up. “I just… I don’t want to pretend like what happened didn’t happen. I don’t want to go back to the way things were.”

It didn’t make sense, him wanting to be with her and also _not,_ at the same time, but she was the last person to judge messy feelings that didn’t make sense.

“I liked the way things were,” she sighed wistfully. “I liked our thing.”

“I liked our thing too,” he said. “But Rayla. You broke it.”

She swallowed the sob that rose in her throat. “I know.”

“Maybe it was good that you did.”

“I- I…” She breathed hard. He deserved to say his piece without tears from her, no matter how hard this was for her to hear, he deserved for her to listen, and _she_ deserved to hear it-

His gentle fingers turned her face up and around to look at him. “Rayla?”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay!” He looked _angry_ now. “The full truth,” he demanded.

“I’m sad, because you’re happy about… no longer being with me because _I’m_ not-”

“WHAT?! THAT´S what you heard?! Rayla, WHAT?! That was in NO way what I said!”

“What… _did_ you say?” she asked, afraid of the answer, but… whatever it was it had clearly been worse inside her head.

“That our thing made me so, _so_ happy but there were things that didn’t work about it, that I couldn’t see, because I was too happy to see them.”

Oh.

That… made _too_ much sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Next chapter might take a bit longer, it's a rough pile of disjointed feelings right now, and needs some work. And I'll return focus to Down to Earth to get that done. But I have a plan for the rest of the story, and a lot of it written, so it won't be TOO, too long.


	5. Light and Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum tries to come to terms with the duality of someone he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented and kudos'ed this story. It really makes my day to see :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy - there's some actual fluff and banter in this chapter, this story isn't all darkness, like the title suggests.

Callum reentered the shaded area under the rocky overhang, leaving the daylight behind.

It seemed so much darker in here, coming in from the outside. He hadn’t even noticed, until he had a point of comparison.

He hadn’t even gone far at all, only as far as his toilet bush - and it was his alone, emphatically not sharing _that_ because it was now firmly claimed in his name.

Well. Maybe he had gone a _bit_ further. As far as a patch of yellow flowers, lighting up the mossy green.

He had stood in the misty autumn sunlight, and looked back at the darkness of the cave where she still was and it had felt important, somehow, that he brought some of it back to her.

It had been baffling to him, and still was, how someone who shone so brightly could be so used to darkness she didn’t even notice it.

Rayla looked up from her task of tending to her knee as he returned, smiling and… _bright_.

He returned the smile without thinking, but it dropped as his gaze fell to her knee, because even with the anti-inflammatory effect of that goop, the swelling had barely gone down at all, and the bruising had spread from the inside edge of her knee and down her shin, even pooling at the ankle joint. She was not about to go on her merry way any time soon.

Which… _was_ what he wanted but… he wanted her to… _want_ to stay with him. Not stay put out of necessity.

But he had seen anatomical drawings. He couldn’t do anything to fix something as complicated as a knee.

Much less a head or a heart.

At least she was doing due diligence, he noted, spreading the light turquoise goop carefully, and actually _asking_ him to make her a pants-ice-pack-thingie, like he had earlier. He wasn’t entirely convinced she wasn’t doing it solely because she knew _he_ would be upset if she didn’t, but she _was_ doing it, _and_ without being prompted by him _._

He unintentionally grazed her bare thigh when he placed the cold pants on her knee, and she shivered.

His fingers were cold from the ice spell, it was probably just… _that._

He pulled the cloak back to cover her bare legs and looked up at her face.

She was blushing.

So not _just_ … that _._

It was intentional, when he grazed her flushed cheek on the way to placing one of the little flowers he had picked behind her pointed ear. He couldn’t braid her hair with one hand, after all. This was… the next-best thing.

He remembered that little braid she had had when they first met, he had noticed it when she had asked if he didn’t like her ears, because he obviously had to… look at her ears, to make his mind up on that, and there it was, caught in the rays of dusty sunlight in that abandoned hallway. Like a mark on her, of someone’s care, and even as she had set her jaw and tamped down the sweetness and leveled her sword at him, that little braid had still been there, like some outside proof of it.

The flower would have to do now, the soft, yellow petals brushing her temple a stark contrast to the dark purple bruising at the other side of her face.

Complementary, it was called, in color theory. She always had been a study in contrasts, capturing his attention, if not his love, from the first.

She smiled, a tiny, sweet thing pulling at her pink lips and lighting up her lilac eyes, entirely overpowering the harsh, dark purple. 

It hurt to think of her in the wilderness alone, where no-one would see that part of her, and circumstances would demand that she bury it.

“Is it okay?” he asked, a bit too late but- “That I touch you like that?”

The little smile got crooked, as she glanced down to her right arm at the livid purple bruises where the hunter’s fingers had dug into her flesh. “That was… the first time anyone… touched me since… you. I’d… like you to. Yeah.”

He reached out to place his hand against her left upper arm, against untouched pale skin. He gently traced a mirror of the marks with his fingers.

He couldn’t take away months of loneliness or marks of violence just maybe… balance it out? A bit, at least? It would take quite a lot of cake and cuddles to balance out her spending her 16th birthday alone, consumed by a dark task she had placed on herself, or all the other stuff that had happened for that matter.

He could try though.

 _Would_ try.

He ran his hand lightly down her arm, ending at her hand, placing his palm against hers, stroking across the tender inside of her delicate wrist. He flipped her hand so it rested in his palm.

She understood the permission he had given _her_.

Her fingers travelled up his arm from his palm, tracing the lines across it, the Sky runes along his forearm, then lightly enough over the bandage that he didn’t feel it, the path continuing upwards, along his jaw, up his cheek and into his hair.

His ear wasn’t the right shape to hold the other flower though, it fell off when he moved and Rayla huffed in annoyance and tugged him closer.

Instead, she braided his too-long hair at his ear, twisting the stem of the flower into it. He could feel her breath against his cheek as she worked.

It was so relaxing, the lingering dull pain from his arm a distant sensation in comparison.

He sighed, a low rumble from his stomach, the tension in his shoulders loosening.

“Callum?”

He snapped awake from half-dozing off, to her bright lilac eyes right in front of his.

Very… close.

Her lips, too.

Close.

“Callum,” she said again. “I _also…_ need to pee. And we agreed I shouldn’t be walking and I’m trying to stick to it, but I _really_ can’t keep it in much longer-”

Despite everything, he snorted _,_ helpless to the laughter forcing itself out _._ He really should have… thought of that. He did have a rough idea of the relative sizes of their respective bladders and hers was definitely smaller. “That’s okay! I explicitly said I _didn’t…_ want you to ‘keep it in’-“

“You’re not allowed to make me laugh right now,” she grumbled. “I’m not wetting myself on your account! I love you, but I have limits!”

_I love you._

She hadn’t even noticed, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

Her grumpy face really was the cutest-

He sobered. She needed to pee. That couldn’t be postponed and wouldn’t be accomplished without a bit of hurt, what with being in the wilderness and only him there to help her.

She tied strips of her cloak around her knee, wincing as she tightened them, but it would hopefully keep her from the bigger hurt of wrenching it. It was not at all a proper brace or support bandage like it should have been, and he was a rather inferior crutch, with her having to lean against his right side, but she was strong and flexible and too light. He could take her weight, even with one arm, he thought.

* * *

“Can I make you laugh _now?_ ” he asked, when she emerged from the bushes to grip his shoulder again. He wanted… _so_ badly… to see her smile and hear her laugh. He couldn’t take away the darkness, but if he could give her lightness, that was something.

She _did_ smile, as she leaned against him for the short walk around the bush-corner and back to the darkness of the cave.

“Fine,” she scoffed, but her eyes were bright. Really… very… wait-

“Okay, uuuh… wait,” he sputtered. How could his memory be nigh-infallible and completely terrible at once? It was forgetting-the-sustenance-needed-to-live all over again! “I had a joke, I swear!”

“Pfft,” Rayla snorted. “Jokes are the opposite of humor. Especially _your_ jokes.”

“No appreciation at all,” he snickered. “Rough crowd, what can you do?”

“Actually remember the joke?” she snorted, flicking his chin and sending his brain into a familiar flustered reaction. She was… _flirting_ with him? He didn’t think she _knew_ she was doing it. Her smile was warm and fond now, at his exaggerated pout. “Ah, don’t worry. It doesn’t really matter _what_ you say, I missed the sound of-” She stopped herself, looking down. “-crickets,” she finished, her smile half-hearted now, not… effortless as it had been but deliberate.

He _had_ asked for that. He had _said_ he didn’t want to go back to the way things were, she was trying to not toy with him, he did realize that.

They reentered the familiar darkness.

* * *

“Rayla?” Callum asked, sitting down opposite her. “Do you have a way to send a message? We’ve been _lucky,_ so far.”

It was October. They had been lucky the weather had been unusually mild, but it could turn and they didn’t have a tent or proper food or anything. He had tried his patented Fulminis-fishing, but had seen no fish in the little cold mountain stream. And they had been lucky no-one had found them, too.

“No,” she said. “I didn’t really… plan for things to go this way. And I warded myself.” Yeah, he figured, but it was still somewhat of a relief to hear it. He had been worried the reason his and Lujanne’s attempts at tracking her with Moon magic had been because they were… no longer connected. “Do you?” she asked. “Or any other… wizardy stuff you could do?”

“I did. In the bag I left behind back in that forest somewhere.”

He had had a few Moon opals, as well as an artefact connected to the Moon Nexus that he could activate and kinda… ping Lujanne, in case he needed help. Fat lot of good it did _now._ The hunters might have found it, and either way, it was too far, alone on foot. Too risky.

They weren’t _both_ getting down from this mountain, he had seen the incline and it was entirely too steep, it would have been challenging for them on foot (well, for _him,_ at least) at the best of times, and as it were _now,_ Rayla couldn’t walk that, and he couldn’t carry her with his arm as shaky and painful as it still was.

Magic required a personal connection, and while _he_ wasn’t warded, he had been gone for a long time, and Lujanne would have no reason to think he was in greater trouble now that he had been for the past month. Danger was relative.

Like darkness.

He didn’t even know if she would have come, even if he could summoned giant magical eagles to whisk them away kind of… wizardy stuff. And she was even less likely to come if the rescue included the friends she had left like she had him.

And he needed to know. He didn’t want to live his life in darkness.

“Rayla?” he continued, hesitating. “What if I did? As a… hypothetical. Would you want me to use it? Get Soren or Lujanne to come flying to the rescue?”

“Yes, of course!” She sounded sure, but- “You need better treatment than I can give you. Better… everything.” Yeah, she was _not_ getting what he was really asking.

“Rayla. I’m absolutely not leaving you here on your own, that was a given.”

“Then I would come,” she said, without hesitation. He believed her. He _didn’t_ believe that she wouldn’t leave again when they were both healed and she judged he was ‘safe’.

“It’s… hypothetical anyway,” he sighed. “We’re _not_ getting picked up.”

“I’m sorry. You deserve better. Better than this cave. Better than those stupid leaves when you’re h-hurting.” She was choking on the word, but not stopping. Wiping at the tears as she continued. “Better than living off fruit when you were bleeding yesterday. Better than how I treated you.”

It just made the anger he had kept away for hours come flooding back, because why didn’t she think _she_ deserved better than the shit sandwich on a shit platter that _her_ life had served her for as long as he had known her?

“I definitely agree with the last one,” he said tightly. “The others? Only insofar as they also go for _you._ ” He had to keep a tight rein on the anger to not shout again. She didn’t… _mean_ to hurt herself and him, it was just like it was second nature.

And she _didn’t_ think those things went for her. She _didn’t_ think it was unfair that her parents had left her to live on a mountain, she _didn’t_ think it was unfair that her own foster father had bound her to kill a child when she had been 15 years old and plainly too kind and good to have any chance at succeeding at the cruel and adult thing that was asked of her. She didn’t think it was unfair that Ethari had blamed her for Runaan’s failings. She didn’t think it was unfair that _she_ got hurt because _he_ got in trouble on purpose.

She thought… all that… was _her_ fault.

He didn’t know how to change her mind about that. She didn’t _hear_ it when he told her.

Callum breathed through the anger. Maybe he should… _listen_ … instead.

“Rayla?” he asked, trying to stay calm, trying to keep the roiling feelings down. “Why did you leave? I know… the reason on _top._ Viren. But there’s another reason, beneath it, why you thought that task was on you, and you alone. Why you left the people you love and who love you, to be alone. Why you think you don’t deserve… to be happy for a while after you _literally_ saved the world. Why you think you don’t deserve to be loved and forgiven.”

“I _don’t!_ It’s not fair to you at _all_ to ask-”

“I don’t _CARE_ about fair!” Oh, the ‘listening’ was _not_ happening at all because _she_ wasn’t actually attempting to answer his question or actually looking at herself and her choices to say and do shitty things to herself, she instead just skipped straight to saying _more_ shitty things about herself. “I don’t care about fair where you’re concerned, because YOU don’t! No the fuck it wasn’t FAIR that you left me! So HOW was it fair that your parents left YOU and YOU’RE paying for it?!” He shouted the last words, and then flinched as _she_ flinched. And tears were welling in her eyes because oh that was… _really_ not fair, what he had said or how, just then. “I keep… I keep shouting. I’m _so_ angry, but that’s not okay.”

“It _is_ okay. I can take it,” she said, absolutely _completely_ missing the point.

He breathed deeply and deliberately, swallowing the shout that wanted to come out. “No. It’s not okay to shout at you. It doesn’t matter if you can take it, you _shouldn’t._ You lied to me and hurt me, and I’m angry about it, but I’m not a complete idiot, and do realize you didn’t do it _to_ hurt me, and that you hurt yourself at least at much, doing that. I… really, _really_ mean it, when I said you’re not allowed to hurt yourself. That includes not letting me shout at you. That’s not okay.”

 _She_ was listening. She was making an effort, like him. Actually more successful, at least at the listening bit.

“It hurts me when you hurt yourself,” he continued. “And not just to _see_ it, but to know you’re doing it. And you haven’t… been good to yourself without me to remind you. I can tell. You can’t just be doing stuff for _my_ sake.” Callum swallowed, before this next part, that seemed to resist being said. “I’m not… _enough_ for you-”

“No!” Rayla exclaimed, emphatically squeezing his hand with both of hers. “No, Callum. No.” She breathed shakily searching for words that weren’t there, because he was right about this, and it needed saying, even if it hurt both of them to hear it. “You’re… the best thing that ever- the best. You were…”

“I can’t _save_ you,” he said, clarifying. “Is what I meant. Not alone. Not if you don’t… want me to. You keep hurting yourself, you keep doing things that hurt you because you think you _have_ to, you keep… pushing people… me… away. I can’t change that, I’m _not enough!”_

“It’s not on you to- Callum, I’m a _mess-”_

“I thought… if I loved you enough and showed you enough… _you_ would love you… but-” Callum breathed hard, because it hurt to say. To say out loud. To _admit._

But he was not admitting… _defeat._ Not giving up on her, or anything like _that._

“That’s not enough,” he finished, choking on the words, but saying them anyway.

“Callum, you’re good enough. You’re more-” she said firmly, but then cut off, shrinking into herself in the way he hated more than anything. “It’s not… on _you_. It never _should_ have been on you. I’m just… more trouble than you bargained for. A… bigger mess.”

“Rayla, you’re DOING IT AGAIN!” he yelled, furious, desperate tears slipping down his cheeks unbidden. She was _still_ hurting herself, she _kept_ doing it-

She looked at him, completely miserable, but some grim familiar humor was there too. “So are you,” she smiled, very slightly.

“I know,” he breathed, composing himself. He _was_ doing it again.

He had a temper that she didn’t, she got snappy, that was true, but _he_ was the one who _snapped_.

In his defense though, she was _seriously_ frustrating-

No.

No defense. That was the point. No defense for him _or_ her.

No… excusing things.

The jerkface dance existed for a reason. He had snapped when he shouldn’t well before he ever met her.

“You’re really, _really_ saying… that I’m _not_ a mess?” Rayla asked, incredulous. Well… no. Not exactly.

“I’m saying _you_ can’t say you are,” he said, remembering the Oasis and how his own head too, sometimes, made things that weren’t true feel more real through iteration alone. “Not the _way_ you say it, putting all the weight… the _blame…_ for that… on _you._ Of course you’re a mess. Messed up things happened to you. A lot of them. You’re allowed to be messed up. You’re _not_ allowed to punish yourself for being messed up, when you didn’t deserve any of it in the first place.”

It never penetrated all the way through her, when he said she was amazing and good and strong. He didn’t know that he _could_ make her see herself like he did. He was sure though, that saying the mean things she said about herself, aloud and inside her own head… made it worse. Made it feel more true, to her. He just… didn’t know what else to _do_.

But he would think about it.

* * *

“Rayla?” he asked later, _much_ later. He had thought about it, not much else to do in this cave. And he thought, _she_ could damn well do some thinking too. “ _Why_ do you think you’re not… good? I never asked you that. I just told you you were and expected you to believe it.”

To trust him.

But that… that was _not_ on him.

It was not _about_ him.

She had _never_ thought she was anything as good or precious or important as she was.

He remembered, back in Ellis’ town, she had sat on that fountain, huddled into his cloak, hiding away from her feelings and from him, and said it was okay for her hand to be slowly and painfully amputated as punishment for doing a brave and noble thing. And she had _meant_ it.

Back in the icy cave, the two of them alone in the firelight, and told him that what mattered was the mission, and him, and Ezran… that _she_ was somehow… expendable. And she had meant that, too.

_The Oasis._

“I… don’t…” she started, but it petered out. It was a hard question to answer, he knew. _He_ had needed time to think, after all.

“But will you think about it? Because… I know I’ve told you plenty, how much I disagree with it, and it doesn’t help. You trust me?”

“Yes,” she said, and immediately. _She_ had no reason to not trust _him,_ he thought, just slightly bitter. _He_ couldn’t have answered that so easily and without caveats.

“So you trust me when I say I don’t see you like that? When I say that to me, you are kind and good, and I felt blessed to be with you, and you made me happy and my life better?”

“Yes.”

“So why don’t _you_ see any of that? You know you hurt me by leaving, you know you’re important to me, and to Ez, and many others.” He reached out to touch her, brushing away a lock of dirty, white hair, that was shorter than he unconsciously expected but nonetheless soft and familiar against his fingers. “I have another thing you can do for me. You can think about why you aren’t important to _you_.” He pushed himself up, cradling his arm to his chest. “I’ll… go get water. Food, if I can find it. More goopy leaves. And you stay? Think?”

He smiled at her, and was gratified when she smiled too, unguarded and with no hint of smirk, and nodded. There was darkness in the light, still, but maybe you got that way, being a light in darkness.

She had been that to him, reaching through a fog of grief after his dad died, making him laugh and feel, guiding him back to a world with so many beautiful things in it, waiting for him to see them.

Like his own feelings.

And her.

She made to get up but then actually caught herself, and motioned him to sit, instead.

She gently tied his scarf like a sling, to hold his arm still, then asked without expectation, if she could kiss him goodbye.

Her lips lingered on his temple.

His lips brushed her forehead at the edge of the mess of bruises.

There was a sweet and beautiful person who did voices when she read stories to Ezran and built snow elves and petted illusion spiders and _saved_ people, lost in all the monumental mess.

He couldn’t save her from her mess, he couldn’t take the darkness away.

But she could.

She did that kind of thing.

* * *

Here's a bit of supplementary artwork, for this chapter and for chapter 3-4. I post additional fanart like this on my tumblr @numptypylon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> So, once the next chapter is done, the story basically is written. It's the next middle part that's unfinished. I'll try to post next chapter on October 6th, the day of the OFFICIAL release of Throught the Moon :)


	6. My Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla grapples with her sense of duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented and kudos'ed! I love hearing from you, and it makes my day <3
> 
> The comic has actually been officially released now! I'll keep the non-spoiler summary though, for at least a week more.
> 
> I want to finish or almost-finish posting this story before I start on Rayla version of Downtime in Wartime, but I'll see how it goes. Will try to have the next chapter of this up in not too long, maybe this weekend.

It was a good agreement, Rayla thought. Touching each other.

They both _wanted_ to, and it made her feel… it didn’t just feel _good,_ it was not that shallow.

It didn’t just feel good, it made _her_ feel good.

Alive.

A person.

It felt like she had been a… _task_ or something… for so long. Duty.

Callum reached out again now, with his good arm, his hand stroking slowly down the unbruised side of her face, tracing her eyebrow, her temple, a deliberate mirror, she realized, of the marks she couldn’t see but very much _feel,_ at the opposite side.

His warm hand flattened to cup her cheek, lingering there, an absentminded, relaxed smile on his face.

“It’s a good thing we match sides,” she giggled. It was completely morbid, that thought, but it _would_ have been a bit awkward if it had been the other way around. And the humor was completely misplaced, but so was Callum’s persistent tenderness, so who cared.

He snorted too. “Funny _and_ horrible. The Rayla brand of humor.”

“Didn’t miss that?” she snickered. That _had_ been more Ezran’s preference.

“I missed it,” he said, smiling at her, wide and unguarded. “I missed… pretty much everything about you.”

She blushed slightly, looking down. He was so…

There was something comfortable and warm inside that she was pretty sure was happiness, because it used to be there all the time but it had been a while since the last time, and she was somehow so much more _aware_ of it now.

She was somehow so much more aware of _all_ the beautiful things. She had walked through a field of melodaisies the day before Callum found trouble and she found him, and the real music hadn’t even pulled at her as much as the memory of it did now. She couldn’t really dance for a while, probably, but it was nice to… _want_ to.

Callum’s smile tugged at her lips much stronger than the memory of music had tugged at her feet. Such a very beautiful thing.

“Besides,” he continued, still smiling. “We’ve made tougher situations work.”

The softer back of his hands and fingers, stroked carefully, very lightly, down her bruised other cheek. She was sure he must feel the heat, because the blush was deepening.

He rose to his knees and leant forward to get the angle right, twisting his arm up and around so he could use his thumb to brush the hair away from her right temple, very lightly across the achiest part of her generally achy head, still throbbing from the force of that impact.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, full of soft concern now. “It looks…” -terrible? Yeah, she could feel the swelling, pulling at the skin, she could imagine she looked exactly as much of a mess as she felt- “…like it hurts.” Oh.

“I’m o-” she started but… no. She had promised. The full truth. “It hurts a bit. Not too bad. A lot less than my knee. And I can see fine out of my eye, now the swelling went down a little bit. I have a headache… but…” His hand went into her hair, his fingers spreading to stroke across her scalp at that. It was bliss and made her sigh in relief before she could stop herself but… she really didn’t want to worry him; it wasn’t as bad as he probably made it out to be. “It’s really… not so bad I’m even sure that punch is why. Might be the brute force illusion. Or all the bawling. So overall it’s not too bad.”

“By your standards,” he smirked slightly, but without much humor, and he pointedly didn’t stop the scalp thing that made her feel so much better than she deserved. “But I’ll take it. Your knee hurts worse?” Of course _that_ was the detail he clamped onto.

She had promised though. And she knew how things got worse in his head if he didn’t know about something, he had explicitly said that yesterday and she had known well before.

“Yeah,” she said, because in all honesty it did. “Mostly when I move it though. I probably did some kinda damage to the ligaments. But I don’t think anything’s broken or displaced, so best course of action is really just… doing nothing and seeing how it goes.”

“And you _will_ do nothing?”

She nodded. She had promised.

For _now,_ she would do nothing.

And then… she would have to do _better._

When she left him again, she would have to do better. Find a way to hurt him less? Or more?

 _Her_ heart hurt, thinking about that, but less than it did thinking about him behind the ice, a piece in Viren’s collection. And the longer she stayed here with him the worse… and _better…_ she felt.

Callum had said that destiny was a book you wrote yourself and… she had to explain to him, that’s what she was trying to do. She had seen the… _default_. The path through the Stormspire, Viren, Callum-

And she had to _change_ that future. Whatever it took. She had to find Viren, and… and finish what she failed to do.

She sighed and pushed the future down and away.

 _Now,_ Callum’s hand was in her hair and making her feel like a whole person, stupidly achy and tired but… alive and here and full of good feelings.

“You asked… if I would come with you, earlier,” she said, quietly but still disturbing the serenity “That _was_ what you were really asking? Right?”

He kissed the top of her head before he drew away, like she had, when she left him. But he didn’t leave, he never did. Just drew back to look at her, his hand never breaking contact as it slid down her arm to take hers.

“Yes,” he said. “Very obviously so.” _Obviously?!_ Yeah, she had definitely missed the obvious part of him _wanting_ her to come with him.

“You want me to?” she asked, a bit defiantly. It was okay if he didn’t. It would hurt to hear but she had hurt him worse. And if he told her he didn’t then… leaving would be easier. Would be… what _he_ wanted, too.

“Rayla, of course I want you to come home with me,” he said, sighing heavily. “You think I would follow you halfway across the world just to give you a piece of my mind?” No. That was not him, and never had been.

“Home?” she asked, not meaning to. It just… slipped out, like… _longing_.

“I know it wasn’t yours,” he said, not pushing it, even though she knew he had wanted very badly, to give her a home with him and Ezran. “I tried but- I know.”

“I’m sorry.” She had _wanted_ it to feel like home but… you weren’t afraid and on edge in your home, and she had been, since she arrived in Katolis. Him and Ezran were just two of the humans, and the rest- “It doesn’t feel like home anymore than this cave does. Or anywhere else in the world. It’s not Katolis, though. It’s me. I don’t fit anywhere.”

“That where you went though… _anywhere_. Far as I could tell, following you.”

_Oh._

She… _had_ gone anywhere. She hadn’t had a plan or anything to go by, and still didn’t.

She shook her head against the feelings pushing themselves up and out.

“Is Ezran…?” she started, changing the subject to not exactly something more cheerful but… _anything_ else. But that was a dumb question, like desperate diversions usually were. Of course Ezran was angry with her, she had stomped on his brothers feelings and lied to them both. “He’s angry with me,” she stated instead. She had not only messed up her and Callum’s thing.

“No,” Callum said, but… there was a ‘but’ to that, she could tell, and she kept his gaze until he continued. “And yes. You know Ez. He might be upset with you because I wasn’t… I didn’t take it well. When you left.” She knew he wouldn’t.

But when the alternative had been Callum behind that wall of ice-

“I know,” she said. She would take it. “I made my choice.”

“You know, Rayla, that other people can make choices, too? About forgiveness? And love? And Ez _will_ forgive you, and quickly too.” Ezran was good all the way through, she knew. He forgave people who didn’t deserve it.

“It’s okay, Callum. There’s a price for doing what I did.” She had known what it was.

“There _is,_ ” he agreed, “But _this_ isn’t yours. Ezran read your letter too. And he said you sounded very upset. And… hurt inside.” Callum was looking at her, watching her reaction to that.

She really hadn’t done a good job with the illusions.

And damnit, she had never been able to say no to Ezran. Even when he wasn’t even here he saw right through her, even second-hand he-

She sniffed, looking down at their joined hands. “I… was. Am. I’m trying not to be. But I am. It keeps-” The full truth. He deserved it. “It keeps coming back to me, what happened. I can’t seem to let it go at all. It’s in my dreams, and in my head when I’m awake, too.”

He squeezed her hand in his, larger and softer. “I know. And… understand. Not all of it, but… I understand having thoughts just force themselves inside your head, even if you don’t want them. I always kind of… worried a lot. About everything. Made obstacles and challenges and fears bigger inside my head than they really were.” Now _he_ was looking down, and his hand tensed around hers.

It had been a lot of _real_ worry for him, these last months, the fears and challenges had been pretty big to begin with.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, smiling gently, brushing his hair away from his temple to kiss him there, trying to tell him with more than words that… that it was okay. His head didn’t always do so well on its own, but that just meant it needed company, not that it was _wrong_. It was wrong what had _happened_ … what _she_ had done to him, not how his head had reacted.

The tension in him was gradually replaced with fatigue as the sat there, too tired to talk anymore, but their hands still joined.

It was late, she thought? It was hard to judge in this cave, because they had been sleeping at odd hours. It was bedtime for Callum, at least. Didn’t really matter what it was to the rest of the world, not in this cave with just them.

He seemed to at least relax _enough_ to let her guide him to lie down, gently positioning his injured arm so he wasn’t pulling at the healing injury. He dutifully chewed the leaves she gave him, his body going slack against the ground as they started working and the tension caused by physical pain left.

“I know, love. You go inside your head sometimes,” she muttered absentmindedly, her hand still resting gently on top of the head in question.

“It’s no fun in there. But _you…_ you lead me out.” His eyes had glazed over slightly, his consciousness wavering. “You always… do. And I wished… I could do that…” A yawn split the last word and he slurred the rest but… they were _honest_ words _._ Like the rest of him, and unlike her. “…for you… but ‘is different-”

It _was_ different. And also… not.

She looked down at him, at his adorable, doofy, too-innocent falling-asleep-face, her heart seeming to simultaneously swell and clench.

“You _do_ make me feel… so much better,” she said, hoping he… _felt_ it, even if he didn’t hear all the words. “It just… I love you _so_ much.” He didn’t get how amazing he was, and that the world needed him to be in it and _she_ needed him to be in it. The next bit came with… guilt, because she knew what she _should_ do, what the right thing was, just- “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed quietly, to probably no one but a few bats waking up in the roof of the cave.

But Callum heard, she could tell, because his eyes cracked halfway open to meet hers. “I know… ‘is not easy for you, what I said… asked… you… t’think ‘bout. We… ‘ave… _time._ ”

Did they though?

It seemed to her there was a ticking clock until her knee was healed enough to walk down the mountain or his arm healed enough to fly. Then… she didn’t know.

Time seemed to move both faster and slower, in this cave with him. It was like she was holding onto these moments with him, even the awful, painful ones. She hadn’t thought she would ever see him again, let alone feel his touch and his forgiveness and his love.

She looked down at him, dozing off now, his hand still loosely curled around hers. Like… an offer.

Rayla ran her hand through his hair, soft and floofy still, despite being anything but clean. He needed a haircut, it was getting in his eyes and covering his cute, rounded ears with the soft little fleshy bits at the bottom. She had cut hers with her blades but his hair deserved better than her making a mess of things, like she definitely would.

She leant forward to kiss the top of his head, like he had. And like she had, before she had left him.

She didn’t leave this time though, just laid down next to him, close enough to still touch him. She couldn’t and… _wouldn’t_ … leave, not while he was hurt. She didn’t _want_ to leave at _all_ , but… her wants were secondary to his life.

But every interaction with him, every hour… made what he offered more tempting. And he _was_ offering it. He might not want to go back to the way things were, but his love and care was like… an open offer, there for her to take, deserving or not.

Which she emphatically was _not_ , but he… was giving it to her anyway.

She wondered how he did that, left himself so vulnerable for so long, without crumbling.

Fatigue and pain were pulling at her, but didn’t she didn’t take the leaves and didn’t sleep. She kept her hand in his open palm and thought about the hard and messy things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This was a quiter chapter but... the high drama is NOT over ;)
> 
> Split one chapter into THREE because I don't want them too long for a story this emotionally intense, and 7K and counting was... way too long. So there'll be 10 chapters, but this is absolutely the FINAL count XD
> 
> Up next: Callum has different views on duty and have-to's.


	7. Your Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum has different ideas about duty and have-to's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's commented and kudos'ed, I really appreciate all of you. This story is important to me, and it's the kind of story I really want to write right now, so it really means a lot to see people also want to read it <3
> 
> There are a few references in this chapter, to the last two chapters of my between-canon-episodes story, [Downtime in Wartime](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774909/chapters/54421612) (all one-shots, the references are to the chapters after the S3 final battle, 30 and 31). It's not necessary to read or anything, but is like a bit of extra context.

She hadn’t slept properly, he could tell. Her shoulders slumped, already awake when he woke, sitting upright and looking out into the clear autumn sunshine outside.

“Hey,” he said gently, handing her a piece of fruit, nudging her slightly.

She ate mechanically, without looking at him.

“You want to sleep a bit more?” he asked, as she finished. “I can go find more food, mushrooms maybe, instead of fruit? We can-”

“Callum,” she said, turning to finally look at him, almost pleading. Her eyes were dull and tired, and she had been crying, and recently too. She was so pale, the redness was always really obvious. He wondered if she had slept at all, now. “I love you. And I don’t want to lie to you ever again, or lead you on. I want to- …it doesn’t matter. I have to leave. Again. When we’re both well enough. And I don’t want to leave like I did, but I-”

Fucking hell. He hadn’t even been awake for five minutes, the leaves had definitely worn off, his arm was hurting from an awkward angle of sleeping, and he was just… _done._ Not with _her,_ never that but… he was done being all _understanding_ when she was talking crazy.

“Why?” he demanded, not patiently at all. If she didn’t want to leave like she had, she could damn well explain.

“I _have_ to, Callum!”

“ _Why_ , Rayla?! We have four powerful monarchs on our side, two on each side of the Breach, all of them motivated to use the resources they govern to finding Viren. Armies. Spies. Why _you?”_

“I’m… the hero who avenged Avizandum. Or rather… failed at it.” She sighed, looking down. “That’s… what people say.”

“Who cares what ‘people’ say?! ‘People’ say all sorts of shit! You heard what Lord Butt’s-his-Face-” Not his name, obviously, but how Ezran had referred to him since he had banished him from the Katolian court, a few weeks before she left. “-said about _us_. That I was a degenerate and you were a rabid beast. Do you think _he_ was right? He’s ‘people’ too.”

“I _failed_ , Callum! It’s not just _people_ saying that, it’s _me_ too! I should have killed him, and I failed and other people will pay the price for that if he’s not stopped, you _know_ that!”

“Well, I have a version of your story, wherein you’re the hero who saved Azymondias. And _succeeded_.”

“But Zym is not _safe!_ None of us are, and it’s my-”

“No! Rayla! NO!” It came out too close to the shouting he didn’t want to do. “No,” he said again, slower, deliberate, trying to calm himself down. “It’s not. You matter for you. Not just what can do and have done and _will_ do. It’s not on you alone.” And it… it wasn’t on _them,_ either. He had… made a mistake, maybe? Offering to go with her, out of love. It wasn’t what she needed. He steeled himself, because it was time for the full truth, pleasant or not. “I already said I would help you find Viren, but you didn’t accept it, and that offer is revoked now. I won’t. Not just the two of us, because that’s not a lot better than just you.”

“I’m glad. I never wanted you in this. It’s dangerous.”

“You know, other people might be insulted,” he smirked grimly, because it wasn’t funny at all, what she _did_ mean.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Oh, I know,” he said. “You don’t mean I’m weaker, although I certainly am. You mean I’m more important.” She didn’t contradict him and that was really… all the answer he needed. “I think… it was wrong of me to offer. It was enabling an idea that I disagree with - that it’s on _you_. It’s not on you, and that means it’s not on the me either, not on just the two of us. We’re 15 and 16. We saved the world three, four months ago, and the cost was high. We’re wounded, Rayla. We need to heal.”

“It’s not that bad, for either of us,” she said, gesturing at his arm and her leg. “A few weeks-”

That wasn’t what he meant, and she knew it. And she actually stopped and thought about it. “I know,” she said simply, instead. “I know I am. I can feel it.” The next words came out a miserable wet hiccup. “I don’t w-want to feel like this, I don’t want to be _alone-_ “

Her small hand pressed against her chest. He placed his on top of hers, feeling her too-fast heartbeat. “Hey. It’s like you said after the battle of the Spire: It’s okay if you’re not okay. I’m here with you. You’re not alone. You don’t _have_ to be alone if you don’t want to be.”

She was crying now, no sobs just tears trickling down her cheeks. “I chose. I l-left.”

“I know. I came after you. And I’m here with you. Baring you leaving again, you’re not getting rid of me. But Rayla. I won’t come after you if you leave again. If it’s really your choice, then I can’t do anything but…” His throat was closing up, but he forced it out. “-but m-mourn you,” he choked, because it was unbearable to think about but he _couldn’t stop it._ Only _she_ could. “I can’t bear it! I know I have to, but I can’t! And I can’t bear it if it’s not a choice!”

“It’s my choice and no one else’s!” Rayla said, heated now, despite the steady stream of tears. “ _You_ said so! And _I have to do this!”_

Then it wasn’t a _choice_ , and _how_ did she not see that? 

The shout was rising in his throat and he had promised but… it didn’t matter that he had _promised_ he wouldn’t _,_ that was the _point!_ It wasn’t about promises and duty and have-to’s, he didn’t _want_ to shout at her and hurt her. She hurt herself plenty, she didn’t need his help there.

If he spoke, he would shout. If he stayed here, he would shout.

So _he_ left, this time.

He sagged against the first tree he found because part of him knew very definitely… she _would_ come after him, no matter how far he went and he didn’t want her to hurt herself, he just… couldn’t be back there, where he _would_ shout at her.

They always ran after each other, even when it hurt.

His clenched right fist slammed painfully against the hard ground.

It moved a bit of focus… a bit of hurt… but there was still too much left in his heart.

How did she not get that her saying things like ‘had to’ tore his heart out to hear. He loved her and he wanted to walk _with_ her where-ever she wanted to go but… if she didn’t think her life was hers, her destiny was hers? He couldn’t-

It was a sob that broke loose, not a shout.

He held onto the tree, in lieu of anything else tangible, as they shook his whole body.

She sat next to him at some point, as he knew she would.

Her arms wrapped around him from behind. Her face pressed against the back of his neck. Wetness was soaking into his hair.

Her hands stroked across his tense right arm, his white-knuckled grip, until he let go of the tree, slumping forwards instead.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered miserably. “I wish it didn’t have to be like that. I wish I could come with you and hold you and love you.” _Have to._ Again.

“Rayla.” He breathed deeply and deliberately. No shouting. He didn’t want to do that to her. Or just in general… be that kind of person. “If doing what you mean to do is something you have to do, then it’s not a choice. Those are opposites. And it _hurts_ to think of you, following a dark path because you think you _have_ to.”

“Sorry. I know that… means a lot to you. Freedom.”

“You know that… _you_ mean a lot to me, right? It’s not about philosophy, it’s about you.”

“I know. It’s about you too, for me. I didn’t want you on that path with me. You’re too… too-”

It was back to the core of it, that she didn’t think she mattered as much as him or Zym or even a random overgrown pigeon in need. He didn’t want to… press that issue right now though. He wanted her to _think_ about it, and there was too much raw emotion in both of them right now, they might have stopped actually crying, but that was more to do with there seeming to be some time limit on how long you could physically cry rather than being less upset.

She had been taught to hide her feelings, not that she had ever been good at it. He had been taught to share his. It was all the same, the feelings were there, intensely ringing through both of them. In his heart pounding in his ribcage and in hers where she was pressed against his back.

He would try to… explain the thing about choices instead. “It _is_ also important to me, Rayla. Choices. Freedom. It’s like… my soul. It’s what let me connect to the Sky arcanum. I don’t believe in have-to’s or destiny. It’s not a choice if you feel you don’t have any _other_ choices. There needs to be more than one option, for it to _be_ a choice.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, and he was _almost_ hopeful she was actually getting it, but… she was not done talking. “It’s not fair of me to say I had to, that’s not taking responsibility and that _is_ what I tried to do. There was a choice. I made a choice. And I’ll live with it.”

It was _infuriating_ to listen to. She could twist absolutely _everything_ to putting more weight and blame on herself.

But he breathed. Used the Sky magic his choices had granted him to breathe deeply from his stomach and didn’t shout _or_ leave.

He should listen.

He needed to see her, too.

No hiding. No running from hard truths. For either of them. No leaving.

She shifted to sit across from him instead, so they could look at each other. They didn’t break contact though, their joined hands resting together in his lap.

“Rayla? What were your choices. What _are_ your choices? To you? The full truth. Please?”

She looked so stricken he almost took it back, because her hands shook in his and her face was rapidly approaching the horrible not-crying-face. But then she breathed too, and set her jaw and looked him in the eyes.

“You know the one I chose. Going to find Viren alone. The other ones were… staying with you. Letting things continue the way they had. It felt- _feels_ so real. It feels like destiny, like you said. And it felt like I had to do something to away from that path from that… default… or it would happen. And then… there was the one where we both went after Viren. That’s _not_ a choice anymore. You said so and I agree. That one’s out.

“And to your mind, that was it? And the last two of those choices would mean-”

“Yes! In the last two, you die, he takes you! You _get_ it?!”

“I get… why you left. I get that it’s a dark place, inside your head. I get that you didn’t mean to hurt me, but save me. I really… I always got that, just not-” _Not_ the full extent of it, how terrified she had been, how much space it had taken in her head, what had happened. “I _didn’t_ get it all the way, no. Maybe I still don’t? It’s _your_ head. But I’ll help you, if you let me. As best as I can. And other people will help too. Amaya talked to me, after the battle, that it was normal or… well, not _normal_ but… that sometimes, bad things stay inside you for a long time and feel real. And that I could come to her, if I needed to.”

“ _You_ can,” Rayla said quietly.

She had had no-one but him and Ezran, both kids and reeling from the same bad things as she was. She hadn’t felt safe in Katolis, like he had, it hadn’t been home, it had been full of people who saw her as dangerous or worthless or both.

It had been no better than this cave. The two of them in their room together, leaning on each other, and a world outside it that didn’t understand.

He chewed on his response. He couldn’t say the people he knew and loved would help her too, it didn’t work like that, you couldn’t just skip ahead to trust and love. Amaya wasn’t _Rayla’s_ aunt who had known her since childhood. Rayla didn’t have _anyone_ who had.

That didn’t mean though, that it had been right, what she had done, or what _he_ had.

“I won’t go with you on a quest to find Viren alone, Rayla. But I’ll live with you, wherever you want, for a while, if you don’t want to return to Katolis. Like the Moon Nexus? Or the Storm Spire?” Emphatically _not_ the Silvergrove, but he hoped _she_ would understand what a terrible idea that would be for her right now.

“You’ve… done enough. More than enough. I didn’t… I don’t want you to lose your home because I lost mine.”

“We can make a new one,” he smiled. “I never felt very at home in the castle either. I felt at home in my room with Ezran, but… not so much the rest of it.”

“Yeah. That’s pretty much… how I felt. There. It was okay though. As long as I had that room. With you. The good things in there.” She smiled minutely.

Rayla standing there for the first time, in his borrowed pajamas, shrinking into herself, unsure in this new place but relaxing into him when he hugged her. They hadn’t used her bed that first night but snuggled close on the too-narrow frame of his, chasing away the darkness with whispered words and giggles and kisses.

But it had not been _enough_. She had stayed up late, alone. Been plagued by nightmares she hadn’t shared with him, thoughts and fears she hadn’t shared with him.

“But…” Her mouth trembled. “He got in there too. I couldn’t even… my bed was just… a scary thing. Even in the bit of the castle that was home. He got in there and took it, and it felt like… a matter of time and he would take _you_ -” She cut off, pleading. “I can’t… I can’t do it anymore… _this-_ ” She cut off to a sob, looking down, as if ashamed, fresh tears trickling down her cheeks. “I just wanna… touch you… and make you laugh and… and feel… like a person-“ she gasped out, fists clenching. “And that’s not… solving anything.”

“Maybe not,” he said gently, leaning forwards to kiss her wet cheeks. Oh. His heart clenched with the faint pink blush that rose beneath his lips, with the yearning to kiss her mouth and press closer and chase the darkness away with good feelings. And he couldn’t and it was… too far already, maybe? “But we need that too.” He found her right hand, but didn’t kiss it like he wanted because… that was a romantic thing. And they _weren’t_ a romantic thing and he… needed to protect himself and her, both.

“You know how my memory works,” he continued. “I remember things. I remember what you said, after the battle. That because of me, you were alive and dealing with the mess that is life. It’s a big mess, I’m starting to understand just… how big. But you said something else, too, later. That you didn’t want less of the good things for fear of a bad thing. And I agree. We need the good things. We need to feel like people.” He reached out to tip up her chin. “Square up, buttercup,” he grinned, halfheartedly but… he knew it wasn’t for no reason, Rayla’s frequently out-of-place bravado. Halfhearted could get you closer to the real thing, sometimes. “Let’s play ‘Two Truths and a Lie: Xadian Wildlife Edition’!”

She was _good_ at that game. She was a bad liar but a good storyteller. When her lies _really_ hurt no-one, like outlandish facts about adoraburrs, she was incredible.

Her eyes lit up a bit. “You know you always lose,” she laughed, well on her way to wholehearted, wiping her eyes. “You’re the densest substance known to man or elf!”

Pfft.

She was smiling.

He had already won.

* * *

The tree was a comfortable backrest, now, not some desperate handhold.

Rayla’s head was in his lap, her hand resting against her chest, lightly curled up, no clenched fists or desperate tears.

His hand rested against the top of her head, away from the mess of bruises at her temple.

He stroked down through her tangled hair, down her graceful neck to her shoulder, her too-skinny upper arm, lightly over the livid purple finger marks.

It was firm muscle under his fingers, but the frame underneath was slight and delicate… like the rest of her… and he wondered how she carried so much weight without crumbling.

But… that was just it, wasn’t it? She _had._ Just not… not in the dropping and doing nothing way, because that was not Rayla at all. She had done _something._

_Anything._

Going off alone in the night, leaving everyone she loved… that had been her crumbling.

She was vulnerable, now and… _always,_ really. Soft inside, like a jellytart and right now the crust had crumbled, the soft insides exposed.

She needed to be picked up and protected and to protect _herself_ , too. He was very sure… she couldn’t take another hit right now, and maybe not for a while. He wasn’t sure _he_ could, either.

But he thought, if Viren _was_ out there somewhere, getting stronger… they could do that to. Get stronger. Get the _world_ stronger. Heal the breached nations and each other.

Be _ready_ , sure, but… be _happy_ , too. Be _people_ too.

They could have both. They had a _choice._

* * *

Bonus sketch: 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Next chapter shouldn't be too long, either this weekend or Tuesday
> 
> Up next: Rayla reaches the core of the mess


	8. The Full Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla gets to the core of the mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome back! It's been a while, because this chapter did NOT want to be finished, and it was an important chapter and I didn't want to drop the ball on it. I still don't like the beginning, but it's time to let go, I think.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's commented and kudos'ed on this story. The story is important for me to tell, so it really means a lot to see people want to read it, too.
> 
> Agh, this one is long, but I really didn't want to split chapters again. They... just... have... so... many... feelings :D

“Callum?” Rayla muttered, looking up at his face above her, at the world coming back into focus. She was asleep for a bit, maybe?

“Hey.” He smiled gently down at her, his good arm bracing her back when she pushed herself up to sitting, leaning against the tree and against him.

She shouldn’t, she knew, but she leant her achy, tired head against his shoulder while she blinked at the light, getting to all the way awake.

She owed him a better explanation that what she had given him after a sleepless night, entirely too brittle to keep the feelings any kind of contained. She had slept at least a little bit. Not that long, true, the sun was still up and high in the sky, but it would have to be enough. She didn’t want to lie. Her stupid sleep-deprived head at least had had _that_ going for it. She didn’t want to lie to hurt him, to push him away.

The full truth had been _her_ idea, originally. He deserved that. He deserved more… better.

Even if it _really_ wasn’t what she wanted at all.

She _wanted_ to take what he was offering, wanted to accept _his_ truth, which was so much kinder to her than hers.

And she knew she ought to push it… _him_ away, that it wasn’t _real_ but… _he_ believed it and _she_ believed him. Believed _in_ him.

He was right about a lot of things, and it was so confusing, making sense of anything. But she _had_ had choices. He was right about that. He just didn’t understand that… duty that came with the choices. If the choices she had made was hers, then so were the consequences. She hadn’t explained that all the way and she had to.

She chewed on her words, steadied by the tree and the ground underneath and him, most of all. “What you said?” she started, hesitant but… she had to try to explain it to him. He deserved the full truth, as well as she could explain it. “About… choices. I think… you’re right. I made a choice when I spared Marcos. And again, in the dungeon, when I left with you and Ezran. But there were consequences.”

“But we succeeded!” He was upset, she could tell, but… she had to continue, she hadn’t before because they had both been bawling. “Why are you still… why do you think it’s still on you?”

“I bound myself.” She looked at him, pleading. This was horrible to think about, even for her, and she had never explained _exactly_ how it had gone because it was _horrible_ , to Callum and Ezran personally. “I don’t-” She bit her lip, cutting off. Callum shouldn’t have to hear this. It was his _dad._

“Rayla,” he said, turning her face back to look at him. “The full truth. I can take it. I _want_ to. I want to understand you, even if it’s hard for me to hear, okay?”

“I bound myself,” she repeated. “My heart for Xadia. I gave my life to that cause, in that moment. There was no turning back. And I feel… stuck. In that. Even if I’m not an assassin anymore.”

“You read the letter, right?” he asked.

She had. A beautiful dream. Like Callum. He could make it happen, too, she believed in him. And he didn’t see it, that he needed Viren _gone_ more than he needed _her._ He couldn’t make it real if he was _dead._ Her life had a different purpose, she had given it freely, when she bound herself. But he _couldn’t_ die.

“Yeah. It was beautiful. I feel… _so_ ashamed, Callum. I bound myself to kill your dad and your brother! Sometimes I still can’t believe you don’t hate me for that.”

“ _Runaan_ bound you,” Callum said tightly. Anger right beneath the surface, she could tell. “Runaan bound his own child to kill another child. There’s _no_ way that weight is yours! Did you _really_ understand what you were getting into? I know you didn’t. You couldn’t kill me, or Marcos or Ezran. And you turned from that path as soon as you could. You’re not an assassin, you said that yourself!”

She couldn’t. She didn’t want to be an assassin, but her failure had caused the deaths of four others, and Viren had used their bodies to cause the death of another two and cause chaos that doomed thousands. She could _never_ atone for that. She only had her life to give, and it was not enough.

“I’m not… anything else… either.” The words were choking her, twisting into some heavy thing in her throat. “I’m not… e-enough,” she sobbed. She couldn’t even say it, couldn’t stand to give it a proper voice, that thought she would _never_ be enough.

“You’re not responsible for all the choices other people made!” he said, passionate but… not angry. Not shouting. He pulled her closer with his good arm, and lowered his voice, mindful that her ear was pretty close to his mouth in this position. “Even if your choices made them possible. That’s what I was talking about, in the letter. The whole point of it. A narrative of love. That means… forgiveness, too. Ezran and I, we forgave you long ago, you know that. _You_ have to forgive you, and I know that’s harder. It’s okay if it takes time. But start by accepting mine, okay? For everything. For leaving, too. I-” He swallowed, hard. “I don’t want to be angry anymore. Not at you. I don’t even know that I… _was_.” He smiled faintly at her. “It’s a mess inside my head, too,” he admitted.

She wanted to help him fix it. Be the company his head needed.

* * *

Eventually, it started drizzling, and they returned to the darkness of the cave together.

He fussed unnecessarily that she had walked without any support, but really, she had mostly hopped anyway, and he hadn’t gone very far. Probably on purpose, she realized.

They went after each other. That was a given. Still.

It was nice to _have_ the support though, for the walk back, it really did hurt more that it had.

He noticed too, she thought, because he helped her sit down against the cave wall first thing, and then got them food and water and the stupid leaves that made everything fuzzy and floaty in exchange for relieving some regular old pain. Rarely worth it, really, and definitely not an option _now_.

There was something she needed to do first, with a clear head.

“Callum?” she asked, as they finished eating and he came over to sit next to her. “You asked me to think about… why I wasn’t important to me. And I did.”

“All night?” he asked, a bit admonishing.

She snickered a bit, too exhausted to be whole-hearted. “Yeah.”

“I can tell,” he said, reaching out to brush her slumped shoulders, then along her cheekbones, along no doubt dark circles under her eyes. “I’m scared sometimes, of asking you things, because it’s like… a hair trigger for you… sacrifice. I didn’t… I know it’s hard, what I’m asking. It’s okay if it takes time, it’s not… all or nothing.”

“I felt like it was. Because… it wasn’t just hard to think about it’s also because… I don’t _know!_ I don’t know how to move on because so many things are just… unknown. How can I deal with it or move on when I don’t know who I’m grieving for, or what really happened to them?!”

“’Who’ you’re grieving?”

That _was_ new, she supposed. One part of the mess of thoughts that had swirled in her head all night. And she had promised her the full truth and she would give it to him, even _her_ full truth was uncertainty.

“Runaan,” she said. “My parents. That’s… part of the mess, I think. That I don’t… _know_. Who they are to me. Who I am to-” She swallowed that horrible thought that they didn’t deserve. “I _shouldn’t_ feel like this when _I was_ the one that… was wrong.”

But he shook his head, gently. “You always… think it’s on you. That it’s your fault when things go wrong or people suffer. And I know you’re not… you’re not that arrogant. That’s not it. It’s really _not_ pride. At least… not like _that._ You think you’re less important than almost everyone else. Even dumb overgrown pigeons. So you think what you _do_ is the only thing that makes you worth anything.”

She didn’t answer. He wouldn’t like her answer. He had always thought she was better than she was.

“I don’t care what you can do,” he continued. “I admire it, don’t get me wrong, but… it’s like… right now?” He gestured at the cave and her knee and the rest of her. “You can’t fight. And you’re… uh… less fun to be around than usual, right now-”

“You can say ‘giant bummer’,” she snickered, but it was even further from whole-hearted because he was definitely right.

“But you’re still a person,” he continued, defiant. “Not a mess. A person. You’re still kind and good and funny and amazing. And if you saw yourself from the outside, you’d like you, I think.” He smirked slightly, real mirth entering his eyes. “At the _very_ least, you’d risk your life to save you, fulfilling the Rayla-bare-minimum-of-social-obligation.”

She sputtered with laughter. He… might be right, there. “You’re… biased,” she said, but smiling for real now, and unable to keep the warm fondness out of her voice. “Where I’m concerned.”

“Have you considered that _you_ are biased too, Rayla?” he asked. “We don’t always see ourselves clearly, I think. Really, we can’t really see all of ourselves at all, when you think about it. I thought I wasn’t good at anything, remember? _You_ helped me see it differently, _you_ never thought I was useless, even when I took three tries to gut a fish without making a mess or choked the embers that first night out of the castle. So, have you considered that _you_ aren’t an unbiased judge of you?”

Yes. In the sleep-deprived haze of last night, her feelings raw and uncontained… she had. She had thought about what he had asked of her, why she thought she wasn’t important, when it had started, why she never felt quite right, quite like she was good enough… or just _enough_.

“Yes,” she said quietly. The full truth.

He didn’t answer, but he was listening, his attention fixed on her.

“Callum, I’ve… _never_ talked about this. To anyone. I _couldn’t,_ because- Ethari and Runaan _loved_ my parents. They… _knew_ my parents but I _didn’t…_ ”

“I know.”

Her throat felt like she couldn’t speak at all. It was like… persistent _doubt_ inside her, that she would make _real_ if she said it out loud.

Callum reached out to engulf her shaking fist, like he had back on the Stormspire, when her chest had hurt like it did now and for the same reason.

She hadn’t been able to quite articulate all of it then… except… _hurt._

He stroked his thumb across her the back of her hand, like he had then.

“I didn’t _believe_ them,” she finally said, despite how much those words seemed to grow in her mouth, fighting to stay inside her where they were less tangibly real. “My parents. After a while, I stopped _believing_ them when they wrote me, telling me they missed me and were proud of me and loved-”

“I love them… still,” she continued. “And… I _hoped_ it was true, what they wrote me, I held on to the idea that is was, but... I wasn’t _sure,_ I didn’t believe it… all the way. It didn’t feel real anymore. _They_ didn’t feel real. They didn’t feel like my parents, Ethari and Runaan did, and yet… they kept telling me they weren’t, that they were my guardians and the people far away that I didn’t know… were my parents. They were supposed to be important to me and they were… are. And _I_ was supposed to be important to _them,_ but-”

 _They left._ Like she had. Some pathetic, desperate hope had been there too, last night, that they had loved her as much as she had loved the people _she_ left behind.

But it was different. She had left _for_ Callum. To save _him._ Her parents leaving had been… an opportunity. An honor. Something she should be proud of, if Runaan and Ethari was to be believed.

She had been, too, until she wasn’t and she realized all at once that she didn’t trust them because she didn’t _know_ them.

“They left,” she said, the heart of it. There had been all sorts of reasons and things, but they had _left._ “For a mission. And then left the mission, or… I thought so, at least. And I thought it fixed it, when you cast that spell, and showed me the real reality,” she choked it out, guilty. She had _wanted_ it to fix it, she had _wanted_ it to be good enough, that at least she was only less important than an _important_ mission, not less important than a mission they had left like they had her.

“It’s okay,” Callum said gently. “Maybe it can’t be fixed? Because it’s _awful_ for me to think about anyone leaving you, and _impossible_ for me to think that they didn’t love you. But I didn’t know them either.” He squeezed her as well as he could with one arm. “But Ethari did. And I really, _really_ think you should talk to him about this.”

“Moonshadow elves don’t really… do that,” she sighed. “Talk about things.”

“But he _would_ ,” Callum said, sounding very sure. “If you asked him to. Ethari loves you, you don’t doubt _that_ do you?”

No, she _didn’t_ doubt that. She only ever had for the brief time between running from his forge and him taking her hand at the lotus pond.

“I’m still banished though,” she said. “Ethari’s petition was denied.” She _couldn’t_ talk to Ethari, even if she had wanted to.

“For now. You know Zubeia and Janai both sent letters, asking the Silvergrove council to reconsider.”

“I’m… pretty sure no-one there _wants_ me to come back, even if those letters do the trick.”

“ _If?_ They _will_ do the trick, are you kidding?” Callum chuckled a bit. “Two queens sending letters to your village council? They’re just stalling because they’re stubborn.” He smiled, fond and tender. “Like you, love.” The endearment slipped out without him even noticing, but _she_ very much did. “And _Ethari_ pretty explicitly wants you to come back. Any other obstacles you can think of, that keeps you from talking to Ethari?”

She bit her lip. The full truth. “That I’m scared,” she admitted. “That he’ll be upset, or insulted on my parents’ behalf, because he really does love them a lot.”

Callum was looking intently at her, hesitating. A painful truth on the tip of his tongue, probably. “You’re scared he loves them more than he loves you?”

Yeah. That was… yeah.

She sobbed out loud, gulping inadequate mouthfuls of air as Callum pulled her as close as he could with one arm, resting his head on top of hers between her horns, as she sank down against him.

Ethari had… picked Runaan who was dead over her when he had banished her.

What did it matter that her parents were dead too, he could _still_ pick them, see what she said as betraying their memories and then she really _would_ have no parents.

“Hey,” Callum said softly, his breath ghosting across her forehead. “I _have_ met Ethari. And he regrets what he did, and it wasn’t because of you, he just has… his own mess that you can’t fix for him. Like you and me. But you still love each other, and he was a father to you for over ten years, and Rayla, he _loves_ you. I saw, even as short a time as I met him. He won’t not love you because of a mess you didn’t make but have to live with.”

She couldn’t even answer, it _hurt_ too much. He sounded so much surer than she was. He didn’t get it. Moonshadow elves didn’t just… say things. Like that you… loved someone.

“He wrote you, you know?” Callum continued. “Or rather, he wrote Katolis, since you’re still… ghosted.” Ethari couldn’t see her or look for her or contact her directly in any way, and she couldn’t contact him. Another price to pay for what she had done. And what _he_ had done. “There was a letter that arrived after you left, for your birthday. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was really upset that day because it was your birthday, so I read it. I’m sorry about that, I told myself it was important for me to do so because it might have some clue as to where you were, but really… I just wanted… _anything_ to do with you-”

“s’kay,” she gasped. That was… _so_ minor, compared to what she had done to him.

When she stopped shaking, he carefully put his injured arm around her too.

Dummy.

But she didn’t pull away, she pressed closer.

He didn’t say anything, for a long time, letting her feel like a person and just… _feel_ in general. Really hear what he had said and what _she_ had.

She had let people she didn’t know, who hadn’t known _her…_ tell her she was less important than a quest. She had believed it her whole life. And she still did, but… she didn’t _want_ to.

“If you want, I’ll read it to you?” Callum’s soft voice broke the silence of the cave. “The letter, I mean."

“You brought it?”

“In my head, yeah. Sorry, not the actual… real one. But you know how my head works. I remember. Every word. And I’m telling you that you don’t need to worry. It was… long. And personal. And full of his love for you. I’ll read it to you if you want me to. Now, or… whenever.”

“Now,” she said, immediately. She was… done pushing stuff in front of her.

“Okay,” he said, then cleared his throat, weirdly formally.

Dork.

“Dear Rayla,

Happy birthday! I hope it is, for you.”

It really, _really_ hadn’t been.

Callum’s birthday… had probably been even worse though, it was the day she had left.

He was thinking something similar, she could tell.

Horrible birthdays were really just a drop in the ocean of horribleness over the last few months but… she had chosen her horrible birthday and he hadn’t.

“You neither, huh?” she asked, completely redundantly.

“Not… really,” he said, clearly an understatement. “I kind of… forgot it _was_ my birthday, after I read your letter. I was looking for you, flying all day. I was so tired at the end of it that when I landed the last time, I tripped and faceplanted and just stayed down, bawling. Lujanne and Soren tracked me and found me like that, covered in dirt and blood and tears-” _Blood?!_ “Just a nosebleed,” he amended hurriedly, when he noticed her expression. It didn’t even make her feel all that much better. “But yeah, all in all a pretty good candidate for single worst day of my life.”

 _I’m sorry,_ she thought, but didn’t say it because it was quite inadequate and meaningless. You apologized with actions. Only way to properly apologize would be to never leave that way again, and she didn’t intend to. If she left again, she would look him in the eyes and face his upset and take his anger and his grief.

“I don’t expect yours was any better,” he said.

“Better than yours, I guess,” she said quietly, although that was debatable. “No blood. No tears. Just… me.”

“That _doesn’t_ sound better,” he said seriously. “Soren picked me off the ground and rode home with me and held me while we were riding in a way that was at least half-hug and he cleaned me up and Lujanne made me iced cream and Ez and Bait slept in my bed that night. It was still horrible, but I wasn’t alone with my upset.”

She had been warm and dry and comfortable, staying on the sunleaves in the beautiful gorge right after the place where her and Callum had encountered Sol Regem. Nothing really bad had happened that day. It was just her, alone with her upset that was pushed down so far she didn’t feel it _as_ upset but more… numbness.

She had woken up alone and not cried and gotten moving. She _had_ almost cried, when she had smelled the stupid fart flowers of all things, and remembered the last time she had been there, so vividly, Callum’s smiling face and those sweet, overwhelming new feelings.

The full truth. She had promised. And she wanted to be honest with him.

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t a very good birthday.” It had just flowed together with other not-very-good days, really. “But it was just part of a lot of other days. Yours was worse. For me, too. I almost… I almost returned.” _I wish I had._ But she didn’t say that either, because that was meaningless too. She _hadn’t_ returned.

“Where were you? That first day? I looked for you, and didn’t… see anything.”

“A tree, during most of the day. I had walked or run the whole night. I continued until a bit before noon, because I figured… you might have woken, then, and started looking. So I sat in a tree and couldn’t really sleep and hoped and not-hoped at the same time, that you’d come and thought of you just… in general, trying to picture you in my mind really hard so I could… remember.”

The summary really didn’t convey at all, how _awful_ that day had been. How her heart had pounded painfully against her rib cage, how despite the fatigue, the tension and doubt and longing wouldn’t let her rest, how she had hated herself so much she had felt physically nauseous, like seasickness without any cause or any relief.

But not… not the worst day of her life. _That_ had still been Callum choking on nothing in her arms, slipping away and it being _her_ fault-

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, to her surprise. “I’m not mad.”

He really… _wasn’t._ He hadn’t shouted for a long time and wasn’t now. He really just… the anger was never so much _at_ her but _for_ her.

“You want me to return to the letter?” Callum asked, after none of them had spoken for a while. “I only got one line in and we got a bit… derailed. I’ll start over, okay?”

“Yeah.” He wanted her to hear it, and so did she.

“Dear Rayla,

Happy birthday! I hope it is, for you.

This letter may be a bit of a mess, because _I_ still am. I wanted you to have it anyway, because I know you, and it can’t wait.

Rayla, you always took on responsibility that was not yours, were always too willing to hurt for other people. You were always unfailingly kind-hearted, and I wonder if you carry a weight _now,_ that you are too kind to put on me, or Runaan, or your parents. That we did not intend harm to you does not mean that no harm was done. And I _did_ intend harm to you. Only for a moment, but I did.

I know, too, that the last time we spoke left a lot of things unanswered.

I miss you very much. Every day. Every hour, sometimes. I am sorry I cannot see you today, my almost-grown-up child. It is hardly my place to wish you are not too grown up, is it? I was very much complicit in you being put in a situation where you were called to be _entirely_ too grown up. It was not on you, that day, Rayla. It was on Runaan for bringing you, and on me for allowing it to happen. It was no failure, what you did, it was a triumph of your heart and spirit.

I cannot leave, when the council are trying their hardest to undermine the appeal I made. They will not succeed, do not worry on that account. But I need to stay. I want to see you again, and I will, regardless of whether this appeal goes through. I hope you want to see me. And I hope you’re happy, Rayla, most of all. Much, much more than I hope to see you again or hope you can forgive me.

I didn’t explain it to you, I barely knew it myself, then. I’m not sure I am fully there, but I am closer, and at least sure about two things.

Firstly, that I put my dead husband over my living child and that was _wrong._ Never doubt that that was wrong. It was not because of you, I was a complete mess when I made that choice, unable to separate my feelings of anger, of placing them where they belonged. Which is emphatically not on you. It never was.

Second, that I love you-”

Callum stopped reading, because Rayla couldn’t keep _this_ in, either, instead pulling her closer, his fingers carding through her hair until she stopped shaking.

“Rayla?” He wiped her wet cheeks one-handed. “It’s okay if you can’t hear anymore, right now. We’re barely on page two, and there were _eight-_ ”

“I can’t,” she burst out, immensely relieved. She was… _so_ tired of heavy feelings, she didn’t feel like she had room for anymore right now, even good ones. “But you… said it. And you’re right. I push bad things down and away and in front of me until I can’t anymore and they swallow me.”

He looked _worried_ as he looked down at her. “But it’s okay to protect yourself. If you _know_ you’re doing it. You’re not denying it or pushing it in front of you until you run out of road. You’re making a decision. For you. That’s okay. That’s _good.”_

She wanted so badly to believe him, believe those words so much kinder to her than anything that came from _her_ head.

So, she did.

“Okay,” she sniffed. “I’d like you to read me the rest of that letter, maybe… tomorrow? I need to… sleep… first.” She was so tired, just… in general. “But I trust you. And him. And I’ll… do it, talk to him,” she said, and though her heart clenched at the thought, it was less than before, because at least… she was doing _something_ to sort out her mess. Trying, at least.

She didn’t budge, once she had made a decision and it was kinda… comforting… to have made a decision.

She was going to seek out the people she loved. The _living_ people she loved.

Not the dead people she loved, or the living people she hated. When you put it like that it was really… no choice at all where she wanted to be.

He was right.

Callum mattered a lot more than anyone who was dead.

 _She_ was alive, too. And she wanted to _stay_ alive even if it was hard.

She should tell him that but… he had no reason to believe her.

So, she should… show him. And _keep_ showing him. Stay.

But _now,_ neither her body or head were cooperating at all.

Tomorrow… she would… show him.

She felt completely spent. She couldn’t even muster the strength or will to get up from where she had sunk down against Callum’s shoulder.

Her head and heart and body hurt. And everything was foggy even with no leaves, her head had just… stopped working?

“I’m tired,” she said, some habit making that come out all whiny and pathetic, like she had, occasionally, at least, been able to be, with Callum.

He kissed the top of her achy, uncooperative head. “I know, love.” Soft and indulgent. And ‘love’. Again. “Lie down, okay?”

Right. He couldn’t comfortably manage her dumb floppy body with one arm if she fell asleep on him, and they had agreed they wouldn’t hurt themselves.

So she pushed partway out of the fog, just enough to position herself on the cave floor.

“’m lying… down-” she muttered, as if that was anything to brag about. And she should really… use the goop before she fell all the way asleep.

Wait.

What… was it she was supposed to do?

“What- …now?” she asked. Maybe he knew when she didn’t.

She cracked her eyes halfway open to look up at Callum’s gently smiling face.

“Now?” he asked, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind her right ear, away from the tender, bruised skin. “I thought of some more things but… only if you want to?”

Her eyes were closing again, but she nodded.

“Let me take care of you. I still want to, I just… want it to be less like pulling teeth, trying to. Let me forgive you. I did… a while ago. A long while ago. Let be care _about_ you. I do anyway, and a lot, at that. And let… go. Not… let _it_ go. I was wrong to say that. But let go. Just until tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” she said, opening her eyes to look up at him, focusing as much as she could, because it was important that he understood that _she_ had understood.

She chewed the leaves he handed her.

She trusted him. He had never picked anyone or anything else over her. That was part of the _problem,_ true, but also… filled her chest with warmth.

Her eyes must have shut because it was dark, but… it wasn’t, really. She’s wasn’t _alone_ in the dark and it wasn’t a scary thing.

Like… warm darkness. Comfy darkness.

Just his touch and his voice. Good darkness.

His hands spreading the goop, like cooling comfort, like a caress. She let him.

His lips against a forehead, an _actual_ caress. She felt it.

“I love you.” His voice in the comfy darkness, after he had laid down next to her. She heard it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! It was looong, the last two chapters will hopefully be shorter.
> 
> If you’re wondering why I didn’t do anything with the AMA angst goldmine that is Rayla’s flower sinking during her ttm portal adventure and Ethari potentially seeing it, it’s because I wrote this chapter prior to the AMA and also already did that flavor of Ethari angst in my S4-5 story, [Down to Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689948/chapters/56876776).


	9. Now and Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum and Rayla leave their angst cave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome back! Sorry it took so long, I got into a kinda weird feelings-funk about the last chapter, because it was important and I wasn't that sure about it even after posting, so I had trouble returning to this story, but I want to finish it, because these kids definitely deserve it after what I put them through!
> 
> And this is the last actual chapter, only the epilogue after this one. This chapter is also as close to fluff as this story gets ;)
> 
> I really appreciate everyone who's commented and kudos'ed on this story, so much <3
> 
> Chapter content warnings (highlight to read or copy the text if on iphone, because they're spoilery): slightly suggestive content

They were starting to smell, Callum thought. They should probably… think about _both_ leaving this cave. At once. And going further than their nearby toilet bushes where he occasionally helped Rayla walk to.

There was a stream nearby, where they could go clean up. Or he could, at least. It was fast flowing and cold, and Rayla didn’t like that even at the best of times, and her knee was slightly less swollen but he didn’t think it would be great if the current yanked at it like it probably would if she got into it.

And _he_ might have trouble getting his shirt off without her help, or, at least without violating their agreement. And he should probably not submerge the bandages, that was general medical advice.

Yeah, bathing might be a bit tricky, all things considered. But not… the _worst_ they had overcome together, not by a long shot.

Together.

They weren’t… _that_ , but they both, he was pretty sure… _wanted_ to be.

It had been a _tiring_ three days, and they hadn’t even _done_ anything.

But however tired _he_ was, it had been worse for Rayla, he thought, looking at her. She was still fast asleep, but clearly tension had followed her, her hand twisting in the fabric of his tunic. She looked completely exhausted and battered, but… not a mess. Just a person.

Unable to stop himself, he reached out to engulf that clenched little fist, stroking slowly along the back of it until it loosened.

Then he stroked along the persistent wrinkle between her brows until that loosened too, her body relaxing.

No nightmare though, he hoped. He wasn’t always able to tell. She’d said that she had had a really bad one, the morning when he’d tickled her awake with the ghost feather. She hid her pain from him even when she was asleep, as if it was instinct.

He laid back down next to her, his forehead against her upper arm, not expecting to sleep just… being there.

He must have slept anyway though, because he woke up, and you had to be asleep to wake up.

“’Morning,” she muttered, reaching out to take his hand, tracing a slow caress across his palm.

He raised her hand to his lips and made it as far as kissing her fingers before the signals from his body and his heart got to his head and reminded him he was still hurt, and that he needed to know. Needed to protect _himself_ , too.

“Rayla?” he asked seriously, looking right into those beautiful eyes, half lidded and hazy with sleep still, but getting closer to fully awake. “The full truth? What do you want?”

“Like, just… in general?” she smirked slightly, a bit confused. He supposed that _was_ a bit of a broad ask, and a big ask, first thing in the morning. But the smirk melted into a real smile, and she nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Umm. I wasn’t really… expecting to be here, like this. With both of us still alive, and not… hating each other. I love you, in fact. A lot. And I want to go with you and try to live. I… really want to try. I want to see Ez again, and apologize for leaving like I did and tell him and… show him that I love him, too. I want to hear the rest of that letter… after… eating and visiting my toilet bush because the first part of it wasn’t at all easy for me to hear, even if it was good. And I want to _see_ Ethari.” She slowed down, thinking, chewing on her words. “Not the Silvergrove. Not yet. I’m… protecting myself, like you said. I don’t… feel very strong, right now.” But she _was_. It was _brave,_ what she was doing now. He smiled, and pressed a this-time-very-intentional kiss to the back of her hand. He would show _her_ that.

“So maybe I could invite him somewhere else?” she continued. “After I’m no longer banished. And I want to… show you I love you. And trust you. And show you that you can trust me. I’m trying to do that… right now.” She swallowed, looking down. “I want to be with you. If and when you’re ready for that. I know I made a mess of things, and it might take a while, or you might never… but that’s what _I_ want.”

She closed her eyes entirely. “I want you to be okay,” she continued. “I want you to be happy. _I_ want to be happy.”

“I want that too, Rayla,” he said. “Especially that last one. I want you to be happy. And… yours. I want you to belong to yourself, and not to some duty you inherited and not… to me, either.”

“It’s not _duty,_ Callum!” she exclaimed hotly, squeezing his hand. “Not with _you._ It’s love. That’s different. That’s a ‘want’ and not a ‘have to’.”

He smiled widely, as it dawned on him what she had said. _All_ of what she had said. And what she _hadn’t_ said, what _hadn’t_ been on that list.

Viren.

Duty.

‘Have to’s’.

* * *

They stepped into the sunlight together, past the his-and-hers toilet bushes for the first time in days.

He had been further than that a couple of times, to get water, but now, with her next to him, the world seemed different.

Brighter.

She leant against him, because they had never gotten around to crafting a decent crutch which was probably… not really a coincidence so much as an excuse.

Nonetheless, he kept his good arm around her and bore as much of her weight as he could without hurting himself, and they reached the flowing stream and sat together on the bank.

They could see far, from here, the stream cutting a path through the trees and baring the sunlit landscape of changing autumn colors. A whole world, in the process of changing. Much more _complicated_ than a cave with just them, but also… more _everything_.

Callum blushed, and so did Rayla, as she helped him remove the by now _very_ ripe shirt, even though _she_ hadn’t worn _pants_ for three days.

And he wasn’t sure, really, _how_ it happened, it _might_ have something to do with the fact that they were currently collectively wearing _one_ decently dressed person’s clothes, or that he was suddenly _very_ aware of her no-pants situation despite it not being exactly novel at this point or-

Well, they were panting into each others’ mouths was what was happening, her tongue tracing his parted lips, his one good arm pulling her into him, and then she whimpered and scooched into his lap to straddle him, pressing closer, and his injured arm’s natural resting place left his hand against her thigh and his thumb stroked the smooth skin there and _her_ hands slid up his bare back-

He nipped at her lips, her jaw, the sensitive skin under her ear.

She gasped, her hand fisting in his hair, but he didn’t care at all.

Well, yeah.

 _That_.

And he was pretty sure _he_ had started it, because he had _so_ wanted to… “Sorry,” he chuckled, apologetically. They weren’t together and he should have… asked. “Lips… getting ahead of me again-”

She rolled her eyes and pressed closer, breathless and smiling. “Dummy. They’re exactly where they ought to be.”

“That’s so cheesy,” he laughed.

She ground up against him, her chest against his, a familiar teasing smirk and no hint of darkness behind the eyes. “Maybe… you rubbed off on me?”

Dork. His dork. Radiant and… open. To him. Making dumb jokes that made her feelings clear to him, letting him know that she wanted this… and him.

He placed his hand against her chest, against her unguarded heart, feeling the thump against his palm.

“You are _so_ very beautiful,” he said, into her soft cheek, renewed breathless wonder at her, at the softness and kindness and vulnerability that had survived all the attempts the world had made to harden her.

“ _Now?_ ” she snickered breathlessly, good-natured humor on the surface, but… that was… she was doing it again and it wasn’t funny.

He drew back to look at her, seriously. At the choppy hair and dirty, bruised face and pink lips moist and parted and swollen from their kisses. At the bright, lilac eyes and defiant spirit behind them. “Yes _, now_ ,” he said, with emphasis. “ _Always.”_

She smiled, proving him… so very right.

Then she looked down, her teeth worrying the edge of those beautiful lips.

“I know… you said you… didn’t want to go back to the way things were,” she said, hesitating.

He _didn’t_ hesitate. “Yeah, I did.” He looked her straight on, waiting for her to look up at him. “Rayla? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“What?!” She stared at him like he had grown another head. “ _You’re_ asking _me?!_ I… yes. Now and always. Yes.” She smiled, but still complete numb disbelief. “I was supposed to make amends, and I really haven’t at all, just bawled a lot and-”

“I don’t want you to make amends. That wasn’t what I asked of you.” He had asked her to work on habits and thoughts that hurt her and hurt him, look at hard things, and think about them, _really_ think about them. “I asked you to change things and… and I know that was harder. And you don’t need to do it all at once or never slip up or fall ever again, just… get back up when you do. Take my hand when you do. I know you, and I know you can do it.”

He had asked her to change a whole life of punishing herself for a mess not of her making.

What he had asked of her was _so_ much harder than making amends.

She stared for a moment longer, but then a smile slowly spread on her face, and she relaxed against him, carefully leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I’m still sorry I hurt you,” she said, kissing the bare skin at his neck, but very lightly and gently, like you would touch somewhere that was hurting, like he had touched her bruises. “I know I did. A lot. I would be… _so_ hurt… if you did that to me. I don’t know that I would have been as kind.”

“I do,” Callum said. He did know. He knew this, about her. “You’re _good._ And if I’d left to find Viren alone in some extremely misguided attempt to protect you, you would have damn well tracked me down yourself and dragged me back kicking and screaming.”

She was smiling now. “Damn straight I would.” She laughed fully now, unburdened. “ _Don’t_ do that.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” he grinned. “’Hair-trigger-for-self-sacrifice’ is _your_ signature look.”

“It’s really not a _great_ look… from the inside,” she said, giving him the full and messy truth.

“ _Or_ from the outside. It _really_ ought to be retired. Autumn is coming, anyway. Whole new color-scheme, it wouldn’t go with the vibe.” She giggled, but… he should give her the full truth too. “Rayla? You get… what I’m _really_ saying, right? That it’s not… it doesn’t work for… the future. Not the future I want with you.”

“And you’re sure you… _want_ that future?”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you like that if I wasn’t,” he said, slightly miffed.

“Just… I’m _still_ kinda… a mess.”

“Rayla, so am I. You said it yourself, after the Stormspire. That we shouldn’t ignore the good things because of the bad things. That’s not wrong. I don’t want to wait to be with you until things are perfect or some nonsense like _that._ Things never are.”

“Yeah, things are kinda messy right now,” she said, but the sigh he felt like vibration against his neck was a happy one he could tell.

“Now and always,” he laughed. Wasn’t _that_ ever the full truth.

* * *

They were so preoccupied that Callum barely registered the insistent and pointed tapping on top of his head. Rayla had been pulling on his hair a bit, anyway, and those sensations were far away, relegated to the table in the corner along with the pain from his arm and the fatigue and hunger and… anything really, but Rayla’s lips and hands and-

But no, it was tapping.

The source was a sparkly purple illusion bird, settling on his head, really not subtle at all, but he had been _very_ preoccupied-

Then it spoke, in Lujanne’s voice. Uncharacteristically stern, too.

“Callum! Where have you been, young man?! Do you know how boring most of my people are? And I had to hear it from _them_ and at _length,_ about you getting yourself impaled! Stay put, we’re on our way. The strapping young idiot insists that I add that you owe him bigtime, and-

Oh.

Guess they were… _really_ leaving this cave with just them.

* * *

And a little bonus illustration for this chapter:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Just the epilogue left, because... the world REALLY isn't a cave with just them :'(


	10. Left Behind and Right Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum and Rayla arrive back in Katolis, and face the real world outside the cave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented and kudos'ed on this story, I appreciate you all so much <3
> 
> Now, the epilogue! It got... waaaay longer than I intended, but I hope you enjoy :)

Callum had barely gotten down from Pyrrah’s back, before getting almost bowled over by Ezran, his brother probably having had a running start all the way from the throne room, from the way he was panting. He supposed the way they had arrived was not that subtle, but what mage turned down the dragon version of giant magical eagles?

Callum squeezed his brother tightly, not missing the desperate way Ezran’s little hands clenched in his shirt.

He had left too. He had work to do, too. But Ezran was here in his arms now, and they very much still loved each other, and they would _do_ that work.

“Jellytarts!” Ezran commanded to the courtyard at large, in his best king-voice. He drew back to regard them, his grin falling a bit as he took them in. “You _urgently_ need jellytarts.” He looked at Rayla, leaning against Soren, frowning. Rayla flinched, entirely missing the obvious fact that that Ezran’s expression was because she was too skinny and therefore extra-jellytart-deficient and not because Ezran didn’t want her here. “Oh, and a doctor!” Ezran added, as an afterthought.

Then he let go of him to hug Rayla too, and _Ezran_ entirely missed just how close to crying that got her, because he was too full of bouncy excitement.

There was definitely work to do to there, too, but… Ezran would understand and listen and be patient, he was certainly better at that than him.

There were more people gathering around them, that he was far less happy to see, and definitely quite a few not so happy to see Rayla. They had to… get away.

“Hay’s the best!” Soren exclaimed eagerly, having retrieved a cartful from somewhere. “I’ll take you the rest of the way, if you guys want?”

Opeli made a face when he and Rayla got into the back of the cart, but really, that hay was a whole lot cleaner than they were at the moment, and you shouldn’t turn down blessings, like a free ride to the doctor from a friend.

Callum had the agree with Soren, as he leant back against the soft pile of fragrant hay and rested his face against Rayla’s soft, not-so-fragrant hair.

The best.

* * *

Callum could see the hesitation and the tension in Rayla, and couldn’t even hold her hand, because the crutches the doctor had given her required both her hands and the instructions that came with them had been pretty firm about her not putting weight on her knee for at least another week.

He held out his half-eaten jellytart to her instead, hovering it in front of her mouth so she could take a bite while they walked. It made her giggle despite her nervousness, and got jam on her nose, which was a bonus.

Ezran had made an express delivery of those buttery, crispy packets of goodness happen in record time, and had Barius bring the jellytarts _to_ the doctor. Ezran had been busy fending off the throng of curious onlookers, and Soren had left after dropping them off, to get Pyrah not-jellytart food before she took off back for Xadia, so they were alone for the walk back to the main castle.

It hadn’t taken long. Since it was too late for stitches, and the ever-helpful goop had kept infections away, they had just gotten clean bandages and instructions to get plenty of rest, drink and food, and leave to go do that in a place of their choosing.

Eating first though, which was why they were heading to the dining hall and not the privacy of their room. The doctor had explicitly specified they were to eat healthy and _varied_ food, after all.

He was briefly distracted by the way Rayla’s adorable nose scrunched up when he brushed the jam away, and then the door to the receival lounge swung open and oh… people were just staring at them, standing in the doorway, looking like they just returned from a battlefield. A _lot_ of people. And jam or no, it was dawning on him that their current state was… something. Maybe they could just… turn back around?

Ezran signed an apology at him from across the room, but had to turn back to the noblewoman he had been talking to, currently gesturing at him and Rayla.

Apparently, news of their return had spread. Landing in the courtyard on a dragon would probably do that.

Opeli looked very displeased, but surprisingly it was not directed at him, despite him and Rayla probably having never looked less presentable in their lives than they did in this moment. She urged them inside, anyway.

Right. He was a prince, here, and couldn’t just do what he felt like, which was to be anywhere but here. He did get it, that he needed to reassure people he was alive and not mortally wounded, and at least he didn’t need to actually talk, for that, Opeli and Ezran seemed to have a handle on the talking.

Callum had never been more grateful for Opeli though, as she set about very efficiently clearing out the clusters of staring nobles and servants alike.

He sank down into a small couch with Rayla, electing to rather awkwardly wait it out so they could eat something in peace and talk to Ezran and Opeli, before going to their room and emphatically shutting the door. They had been back for only a few hours, and he was pretty much exhausted already. Everyone had been _staring_ at them, ever since they arrived. And neither of them wanted to be here, and _he_ didn’t want Rayla here either-

“It’s okay,” Rayla said, noticing his anxiousness, and catching on that a good deal of it was on her account. He could see it wasn’t _really_ , though, and she relented and gave him the full truth. “No. I hate this. I don’t want to talk to any of these people. I want to _leave_.” She didn’t though, she looked him straight in the eyes. “But I won’t.”

“Thank you.” He placed his right hand over hers, twisting in her lap. “You don’t need to talk to anyone, okay? Not if you don’t want to. Opeli will handle it. And _I_ will. Just… stay.”

“Okay. I do… want that. To stay. And fight. For you. Us. The world. And I will, I just-” She couldn’t take a fight right _now_. It had been a _lot_ in a very short time. But she was protecting herself, and not just that but she was… agreeing to let _him_ protect her, he realized.

“ _That’s_ okay,” he said. She _would_ have to face those people who hated her, he wouldn’t lie and say she could stay here and avoid that, but… it really didn’t have to be _now._ “I don’t like it either.” The full truth went for him too. “But I can take it. And I will. I’m glad you’re here-”

He cut off, because some nobleman was coming up to address them.

Fantastic.

“Prince Callum. You have returned to court, I see.” The tone somehow put him way on edge already, and nothing had even really been _said._

Callum breathed. Just… get it over with. Be princely for two minutes until Opeli got around to this side of the room. He could do it.

“Yes.” Callum said, managing to not sound _too_ fed up. “I had business elsewhere, the last few months.”

“And you brought your elf back. How splendid.” The way the man said ‘elf’, like it meant ‘pet’ or something, made his skin crawl, and the way Rayla shrank into herself minutely as she picked up on that, made anger start to bubble in his stomach.

“ _Rayla_ has returned as well, yes,” Callum corrected him.

“Rumor has it that your ‘business’ amounted to chasing halfway across the world after your wayward elf, but I am sure that is hearsay? Surely you can deny the slanderous suggestion that a young man of your position would appropriate his energy and affections thusly?”

“Rayla is her own, and my choices for how I ‘appropriate my energy and affections’ are _my_ own. Now, I ask that you leave us alone, we are tired and hungry.” He forced out the relative courtesy through gritted teeth. Rayla was already dreading returning here, and what he was saying was wrong but _she_ might not think so, and also… they _really_ didn’t need a scene within _hours_ of getting back.

The man scoffed, his eyes looking Rayla up and down with something like disgust, lingering on her bruised arm and face. “At least you put her in her place-”

Callum whipped around from Rayla to the nobleman, anger so hot it was flooding his vision. _Screw_ being polite!

“GET OUT!” he shouted, heedless of the people turning to stare. Rayla had gotten up, limping towards the door.

“I was merely-”

“You were suggesting that I _beat_ my girlfriend! And that it was a _good_ thing! Get OUT!”

“Soren? Please do escort this gentleman out,” Opeli said, walking over, her face thunderous. “Prince Callum, it would do you well to control your temper-”

“Did you _hear_ what he-”

“I heard _you._ As did everyone else in here. Now, I suggest you calm yourself, find Rayla, and you then both retire for the evening.” Opeli’s voice was firm but her hand on his shoulder was gentle. Callum breathed, because if nothing else, Opeli was right about finding Rayla, and right that he had not reacted in an ideal way. “I will have food sent to your room.”

Okay.

Good.

That was… probably for the best.

Ezran had raced after Rayla, which… _he_ ought to have done, instead of shouting at some asshole, because he knew… what _she_ had heard was along the lines of her not deserving to be loved and cared for and forgiven, and he knew things like that got inside her and made her own crappy ideas feel more true.

The real world wasn’t a cave with just them.

The real world would continue to serve her shit sandwiches.

Callum breathed hard, swallowing the anger she didn’t need.

“Hey,” he started, not really knowing what she did need, as he reached her, leaning against a windowsill and against Ezran, not too far down the hall, because she had left her crutches behind, and for once there was not the slightest annoyance in response to that, or that she had _left._ He waited for her to look up from Ezran’s hair. “I’m… really sorry the world is so shitty and doesn’t see you.”

She was close to tears and a comment like that would have previously just elicited a scoff and maybe a smart remark. It would previously have been absorbed, unseen, into the mess inside her. And he had taken it away from her. The defensiveness. The bravado. The being fine when she wasn’t.

“I’m o-” She cut off, and then looked up, determined. “That hurt to hear because I still think it’s true. Well, not that you ought to hit me, that was fucked, but… the other stuff.” She sniffed, more of the truth bubbling out.

Callum put his arms around both of them, careful with his left.

And Rayla cried into Ezran’s hair, letting out the full truth here in front of them both, and not in a dark corner alone.

“That was really bad, Ez,” Callum said quietly. Ezran was a kid, and this stuff was heavy, but he loved Rayla too, and he wanted him to understand. And they had talked about it, on the way back, that he could share everything with Ezran that she had told him in that cave. “It’s bad because when people say to Rayla that she doesn’t deserve to be loved and cared for, it’s echoing inside her and making it feel more true. And we’ve talked about that, but… this was _bad.”_

Ezran nodded thoughtfully, looking up at the colorful bruising spreading over the right side of Rayla’s face, fading to green and yellow at the edges. “Yeah. I get it. It’s like a bruise. A sore spot you shouldn’t poke while it’s healing.”

“It’s okay,” Rayla said. “It’s going to happen again. We’re not in that cave anymore, this is part of living in a world with people in it. I’ll get stronger. Maybe we’ll succeed at changing the world and it’ll happen less?”

“But we’ll protect you until then,” Ezran said firmly. “You’ve done that for us, we just complain a whole lot less about it.”

Rayla snickered, squeezing her tiny protector.

* * *

“Hey,” Soren said, coming around the corner and joining them, holding Rayla’s crutches out to her. “Sorry about those assholes.” Plural. So that had not been the only one saying those things, just the only one _they_ heard. “I threw them out. They won’t be back anytime soon. Opeli sent me to escort you to your room.”

Rayla wasn’t looking at Soren, her tearstained face turned away. It wasn’t even just that she definitely noticed the plurality too, it was… Soren himself. It had been a little bit chilly on the ride back, and while _Callum_ knew Soren wouldn’t stay mad at her for long, _she_ didn’t and really, _he_ couldn’t tell her that, it had to come from Soren.

And it didn’t have to be all at once for Soren, either.

 _Now,_ they would take that escort to their room. This day had been so long and so overwhelming, and neither of them had been able to sleep much on the back of the dragon, that was a fast but bumpy ride.

It was slow going to their rooms too, Rayla was so tired she was stumbling over the crutches she was still unused to, and Callum so tired he barely even noticed when they arrived at the stairs, because the hallways had just seemed endless.

“You uh… want another ride?” Soren offered, glancing sideways at Rayla, nodding at the five flights of steep stairs to their room.

Rayla hesitated, looking up towards where the curvature of the staircase hid the path to the room she was desperate to get to.

“I’m staying with you, regardless of whether you pick quick and easy or slow and painful,” Callum said, sighing. It didn’t have to be all at once, and it had to come from _her._

But Rayla turned to Soren and nodded, and Callum was stupidly proud, because she was actually choosing to accept help she didn’t exactly _need_ but which made things easier. And not just from him and Ezran, either. That was new.

Soren lifted her into his arms in a way that, obviously to him, at least, was about half-hug.

* * *

Soren put Rayla down on the edge of her bed, surprisingly gently, too.

“You guys are like… not okay,” Soren said quietly, frowning as he stepped back, taking in their sorry state.

Rayla was slumped over in exhaustion, tear tracks still visible streaking through the grime on her cheeks. The bandages the doctor had wrapped around her knee to stabilize it while it healed stood out in stark white because they were the only clean thing.

It didn’t matter. They were here and they didn’t need to be unscathed or for things to be perfect, for things to be _better_ than they had been _._ And for things to _keep_ getting better. There were good things ahead, like a future that didn’t exist yet, but in his head it did. They would make it real. Together.

“We’re working on it,” Callum smiled at Soren, reassuring.

“Yeah, me too,” Soren admitted seriously, then shook off the uncharacteristic heaviness as he turned to Rayla. “Don’t go leaving him like that again, alright? He was all… sad and boring, you have no idea. And… I’m glad you’re back. I learned that reverse grip flip you showed me, while you were gone. So you just… get your ass better, and then get it to the sparring ground so I can kick it all over again. Alright?”

The smile that spread on Rayla face was tiny, but it was _so_ bright. “Alright, Soren,” she promised.

Soren left and they had all of five blissful seconds alone, before a servant entered with the kind of sandwiches that had bread.

They both really just wanted to curl up together to sleep, but Opeli had sent her to fill the bath, sending a very clear message, there.

And _another_ clear message, when she _stayed,_ waiting for them to finish eating, claiming she was there to wash Prince Callum’s hair.

So they bathed _separately_ , while the servant made a show of fluffing their pillows and preparing the beds, not leaving until they had both finished, clearly on Opeli’s instructions so Callum bit his tongue.

And then they really _were_ alone.

Callum took in the room… _their_ room… that had been just his, for months. Her bed was still there, because he had thrown a rather undignified tantrum (Opeli’s words) when servants had tried to remove it, shortly after Rayla had left.

But it was the same as it had been before they had left for the Moon Nexus.

Even down to her, sitting on the edge of her bed in his orange pajamas.

Not _left_ but… right. Right here.

She was not… _all_ right, though.

There was tension in the line of her body. The bed linens were twisting between her fingers.

She could have laid down, while he had taken his bath. There was a soft bed with pillows to support her injured knee, she had been looking at actual _comfort_ for the first time in months and hadn’t jumped at the chance.

But she was not… suffering for no reason. No.

She was _scared._

He sat down on her left side, so he could put his good arm around her.

And then he waited, as she relaxed slightly, leaning into him. Opened her mouth once, and closed it again.

She would get there. He knew.

“I’m scared,” she said quietly, and although it was not a good thing she was telling him… she was _telling_ him. All of it. “I’m scared that it’ll come back. It’s like you said. I can’t control it. And I don’t know what to do. If I wake up… I don’t really want to or… _can_ talk about it, right after. It feels like… giving it power. Making it more real.”

“So, let me know some other way? So that I know to comfort you without talking.”

“ _You_ can talk. I like… hearing you talk. Just… don’t expect _me_ to. Right after.”

“That’s okay. You’ve done that for me, too.” Right after the battle. He had had nightmares too, and still did, Rayla slipping away in the clouds, out of his grasp. Just not as… persistent and constant as Rayla. He definitely understood not wanting to talk about it right away.

“Will that be okay with you? Like if I… get into your bed from the _left_ side, I had a nightmare. _Right_ side…” She snuggled her face into his neck for emphasis, her soft lips tickling his skin.

Left: trauma and horribleness.

Right: snuggly fun times.

Yeah, he got it. It was weirdly fitting, too, he thought, looking down at his left arm carefully resting in his lap because the bath had jerked it around more than was comfortable, and then at his right, resting against the back of her neck, her soft hair spilling over his fingers.

Right was where it was at.

And it would get better, he was sure of it. The balance would shift, with time and work and waking up together and crying instead of alone and not-crying, which they both agreed had been infinitely worse.

It was _right,_ with her.

It was right ahead of them and left… behind.

* * *

They got comfortable in the bed together, breaking a few of Opeli’s rules in the process.

She was clearly… she was trying not to, but he could see the resistance in her, to _getting_ comfortable, and her injuries didn’t make that easy to begin with.

At least they had piles of pillows to help them. Ezran had unloaded a whole armful of fancy silk ones from the King’s chambers, when had dropped by to say goodnight to them.

He… _would_ go back to his own bed. The single beds were too narrow for them both to be fully comfortable while they were injured, and Opeli would have a conniption if they… pushed them together. He could stay though, until she was asleep, he thought. Or at least until she was no longer scared of _going_ to sleep.

She settled on her side like she preferred sleeping, but hadn’t been able to in the cave, and he helped her arrange the pillows to support her knee and his arm, as he laid down opposite her.

“We can try to change the stuff we _can_ control, right?” he suggested, looking at her, back and shoulders rigid, not relaxing into the softness under her. “You were tense during the day, too. And you stayed up so late you were alone for hours every night. I bet you weren’t in a good mood when you finally _did_ go to bed, and we can definitely try to change _that._ ”

“No. I really wasn’t. You’re right,” she said, thoughtfully. “I’ll think about it, what we can do. And ask… people. Ethari, maybe.” There _were_ things they could try. A lot of them. And he’d think of more or find more people to ask, if they ran out. He already had one or two in mind.

“You can talk to the old guard captain, Soren said. He already asked her, and she’s fine with you, or both of us, dropping by her house, whenever. She’s retired, but some of the soldiers visit her sometimes to talk about stuff like this. Maybe she has more ideas for what to do?”

“Yeah. I’d like that,” she looked at him, fond but also… stern, like she got sometimes. “With you. You should come too. And not just for me. I’m not the only one that messed up stuff happened to.” Yeah, she was… right about that. It was easier, sometimes, to focus on her, instead of his own mess.

“Okay,” he promised.

“And I have an idea, now, too,” she added. “It’s kinda… childish, though.”

“We’re kinda… children,” Callum shrugged, stroking across her arm in reassurance. “When you think about it. And even if we weren’t, so what? Lots of worse things to be.”

“Will you read me a bedtime story?” she asked shyly, a faint blush spreading on her cheeks. “And not just tonight but… every night? Because it’s so relaxing, hearing you talk. Like, you could read to me from your magic books, that would be fine! As long as… it’s you-”

She cut off, because he couldn’t… _not_ kiss her, anymore.

They lingered, long and soft and slow. She was… telling him. Trusting him. Asking for help even when it made her feel vulnerable. Asking for things for _her._

“Of course,” he said, as he drew away, resting his forehead against hers. “And you can be a bit more selfish, you know. I won’t subject you to the magic textbooks. There’s a library. There are fairytales and adventure books and romance books with half-naked men on horses… anything you want. Well. Maybe steer clear of the top shelf of the romance section. If Ez is joining us. Because I think he’d like that, if you’re okay with it. He _will_ want to pick the book half the time, if he does, and you _will_ hear more stories about talking banther cubs than you thought existed in the world, but… you can pick the first one.”

Her face lit up in a bright smile, not looking at all put off by the thought of ten million stories about banther cubs. “I’d like that. Ez here. And… if I get to choose first? A human fairytale. With… a love story. Not _too_ sappy. But with a happy ending. Do those… exist?”

He laughed, pulling her close. “Yeah,” he said, feeling it and believing it… and her. “They do.”

###### 

Last bonus illustration, I tried some digital painting, with mixed results, but here it is :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who made it through this angsty beast with me! This story was important to me, and one I really wanted to tell, so I'm so grateful to everyone reading this last end note.
> 
> I hope this story was the comforting and hopeful kind of angst I was aiming for.  
> Be kind to yourselves and others in this time <3

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is a very unsubtle working-out-my feelings-though-fic fic, a bunch of emotional catharsis, hopefully :D
> 
> 7 chapters are an estimate, it may be more or less, but I'm trying to keep it fairly short and focused.


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